


Live My Life As It’s Meant To Be

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: A Brush With the Devil Can Clear Your Mind [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fix-It, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22749601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: Nat really thought coming back from the dead would be the most surprising thing to happen to her today. But now. This.She thought about Nate's warm little body propped on her hip, and the pictures of her and Lila on the wall in matching tutus, and the way Cooper had hugged her like she was family and not some guest that visited twice a year. And she thought about Clint kissing her on the front porch and a debate about voyeurism she didn't remember. And for the first time since she could remember, possibly for the first time in her life, she felt something knotted and tense and miserable inside her. . . settle.Looking up, she met Clint's gaze. He was watching her with concern and she wondered how miserable the last month must have been, to know all this and have her dead and unable to share it with."I love you," she said finally. "I want to learn how to raise bees.”
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: A Brush With the Devil Can Clear Your Mind [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1351234
Comments: 104
Kudos: 231





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When we wrote _So Let The Memories Be Good For Those Who Stay_ , we added a sub-plot which mentions Clint, Nat, and Laura have a polyamorous relationship. Several people asked if we'd write the story of that, so we did.
> 
> This story does require explanations for anyone who hasn't read the whole rest of the series or needs a refresher on what we did to the timelines. There is the original timeline, which is the first set of events that went on before the snap and during the 5 years after. It has some diversions but is mostly compliant with the actual Endgame movie. However, when they got the glove they actually rolled back time 5 years to erase the snap entirely. Then when Tony had the glove, he (accidentally) stuck some additional requests in there that altered some details of the timeline for several years prior to the snap. The team remembers the original timeline, everybody else remembers only the alternate timeline. 
> 
> This is the first story to start in the alternate timeline before the snap. The first three chapters are in the alternate timeline in Laura's POV, then chapter 4 in the original timeline in Nat's, and then in chapter 5 returns to the alternate timeline after the big Thanos battle (which is where the rest of the series is). I *think* it will make sense while reading, but let me know if anyone is lost. We wanted to tell the story chronologically and show all the backstory, and this is the way that made sense.

_May 2013_  
_Altered Timeline_

The first anniversary of the Battle of New York, there was a thing in Manhattan. There was going to be a parade and a ceremony dedicating a memorial to those who had died. They wanted all the Avengers to be there. Clint didn’t want to go. Laura didn’t blame him. He considered it the worst day of his life and was not interested in reminiscing. 

Fury called to tell him it was not optional, and when he learned they’d gotten Thor to come down from Asgard for it, Clint gave in and agreed to go. He was so pissed about it he spent the entire weekend ripping out the tile in the master bathroom.

There were worst coping methods, she supposed, but Laura had lived in a construction zone for twelve years and she had days she wished he’d just drink to excess like normal people.

Clint came home from New York with a couple cases of tile from some place in Pennsylvania that still made them by hand like they had in the 19th century, and interesting news.

“I admit,” she said as she washed the dinner dishes after the kids were in bed, “I can’t picture Tony Stark as a parent.”

“Nobody can,” Clint said. “I don’t think it was on purpose, and he’s clearly scared shitless. More than even his bravado can hide. Which, hey, I’ve been there.” He sighed heavily. “Which is awkward.”

Laura glanced over at him, setting a plate in the drying rack. "Want to give him advice?”

“Hell, even just commiseration. I think he needs it, and so does Nat.” He got up and came to the sink, picking up a towel and then the plate to dry. “I know it was part of the whole deal, but it feels wrong to lie to them.”

She scrubbed at a stubborn chunk of melted cheese, thinking. "You trust them right? The team? Trust them with your life?”

“Of course. More importantly. . . I’d trust them with yours.”

"Maybe it's time to stop lying?" she suggested.

Clint put the dry dish in the cabinet. “How do you feel about that?”

"I wouldn't mind having a few more superheroes in my contacts list," she admitted, handing the now cheese-free plate over for drying. "In some of my darker moments I worry that something will happen to both you and Nat and no one will know to call me. I really don't want to find out I'm a widow watching the evening news.”

“Fury or Hill would call you.”

She gave him a look to show she knew he was deflecting. "Steve or Tony would call me faster.”

“If I’m dead, they might be too,” he replied. “But Pepper would call you. And if a fight goes south that takes us all out, I think the two people left behind should know each other.”

"I think I'd like that.”

“I think you’d like meeting them, too.”

She chuckled a little. “After all your stories? I can't wait.”

“You guys want to come to New York?”

"I think that's the easiest. And the kids would probably enjoy some tourist time.”

He leaned over to kiss her temple. “I’ll set it up.”

She turned to catch his mouth. "Finally, a family vacation.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”

"You're welcome. Nat will be happy, too. I don't think she likes lying either.”

They went to New York in June, when the kids were out of school. The city was big and loud and reinforced Laura’s conviction that she was a country person. But it was nice to actually see Clint’s other world.

The rest of the team was surprised, to say the least, but welcoming. And she and Pepper got along much better than Laura would ever have guessed. It was clear the woman was desperate for someone to ask pregnancy and mom advice from and Laura was happy to answer even the silliest of questions.

There were serious ones, too. “Does it make watching him go off to fight harder? Having children?”

"Yes and no," she said, sipping her tea. The kids were out with Clint and some of the team, having some tourist fun. "It's never easy to watch him go. But there's something to be said for knowing you're not alone. And taking care of them can be distracting. You can't sit and fret by the phone when kids need dinner and homework help and a ride to baseball practice.”

“A baby will certainly require attention,” Pepper said.

"Lots," Laura assured her. "And for the first few months you'll be too exhausted to worry about anything.”

“God.” She tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling. “Were yours planned?”

"More or less. Lila more than Coop. Clint wasn't sure he'd be a good dad, and dithered a bit on going forward. But once it was done. . . he stepped up. Lila was his idea.”

“I did not plan on having children. At all. I had a timezone-related birth control fail.”

Laura gestured to Pepper's stomach bump. "Seems like you adapted to the idea all right.”

“When I told Tony I thought he would freak out. Or perhaps shrug and ask me when I’d scheduled the abortion. But he was absolutely thrilled.” She chuckled. “And the somehow so was I.”

"Few things are more adorable than a big tough man excited about fatherhood. Clint seemed nervous and distant for weeks after I got the positive test. Then one day I come home from a doctor's appointment to find he'd built a crib.”

Pepper chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that.” She looked over at Laura. “I am stunned by your existence, but happy for it.”

She laughed. "Everyone is so surprised. I know Clint has a hell of a poker face, but this is another level.”

“I think a lot of us thought there was something going on with him and Natasha. Which I should know better than to assume, but we all see things through our own lens. Tony and I had a long stretch of ambiguity.”

It wasn't the first time Laura had heard that. In fact, "Wow, I really thought you and Nat had a thing" was second only to "Holy shit you have a wife?" in first reactions to meeting her. Laura had long ago come to terms with her husband's best friend being one of the most beautiful women she'd ever met. She considered herself pretty sanguine about the whole thing. But if one more person said they'd assumed the two of them were a couple she might scream. Or punch someone. Possibly Clint.

A few months later, Tony and Pepper had a wedding, which she and Clint were invited to. It was a beautiful, elegant affair. Laura had fun. She also had an opportunity to watch Clint and Natasha dance. It was entirely innocent, and yet she could finally see clear as day exactly what the rest of them saw.

She trusted her husband. But she didn't know what to do with the information he seemed to love another woman. For the time being, she buried it. Got through the wedding and the flight home and the next mission he went on, all with it buried in the back of her mind, not sure what, if anything she should do.  
She didn't _have_ to do anything. It had clearly been going on for a while and nothing had come of it. She was certain of that, down to her bones. Clint might have the best poker face in the world, but if he'd cheated on her she'd know.

For a while Laura put it out of her mind. The Starks invited everyone to come up for Thanksgiving and to meet baby Morgan, and it was a nice time. A couple of them had learned what she did for a living, and had gone out and read some of her books. 

“I have to tell you,” Tony said at dinner, “Your books are clearly the product of a twisted mind, and did _wonders_ for my cognitive dissonance.”

Laura laughed. "Clint has always been an excellent source for some of my weirder research questions.”

“I just mean. . .” He gestured at Clint. “That guy, and a nice boring midwestern housewife is one of the most unbelievable things I’ve ever been presented with, and I’ve been inside an intergalactic portal.”

“He read one of the books in bed and made me leave the light on,” Pepper said.

“That was for the baby.”

“How does one get into writing horror novels?” Steve asked.

She lifted a shoulder. "I published a couple short stories in college. Mostly thinly veiled Handmaid's Tale rip offs. But it was enough to get a taste for it. I worked for a water filtration company as an office and project manager for a while right after graduation. One of the installers came back from a job talking about the basement full of spiders and centipedes he'd had to deal with. I started writing _Infested_ that night over my Greek take out. Two years later I had a five book deal and had met Clint. So I was able to start writing full time.”

“Fury cooked up this whole double life thing,” Clint said. “They didn’t want people to be able to connect her to SHIELD. It felt ridiculous and paranoid back then, but the more invasive the internet and social media get, the more I’m glad for it.”

“The pen name was so my bosses wouldn’t know,” Laura said. “Turned out very convenient.”

“And now you’re scaring Tony Stark,” Steve replied. 

She grinned. "I'll consider that a life goal accomplished.”

They had Christmas at the farm, and Nat brought Steve with her that year, insisting he needed a normal family Christmas. Clint roped Steve into one of his never-ending construction projects, and Nat helped Laura in the kitchen like she always did. Laura had needed to teach her the most basic things when she’d first defected, but now she was a highly competent sous chef—and, if Laura was honest, a better baker.

Mostly, though, it reminded Laura how Nat really was one of her favorite people in the world. Not a lot of people “got” her, the few that did were precious.

On Christmas Eve, the boys built a bike and a dollhouse and then went to bed. Nat and Laura were up past midnight wrapping presents. “So, about Steve. . .” Laura said as she turned an Amazon box inside out for reuse.

"Are you about to ask me if I'm fucking Captain America?" Nat asked, adding another layer of duct tape to whatever she was giving Clint. "Because ew.”

“Come on, now. I saw him out there chopping wood in his t-shirt. ‘Ew’ is violating my suspension of disbelief.”

She lifted a shoulder. "Don't get me wrong, I think he _should_ get some ass. But he's not there yet. Still adjusting to this time, still getting over the life he didn't get to live. Right now he needs me as a friend.”

“And that’s it?”

"Yeah. I really don't . . . I wouldn't be interested. I don't think he really trusts me and I think afterwards would be incredibly weird and awkward.”

“In my defense, I was trying to figure out if you had some sort of relationship, not just a one night stand.” Laura studied her wrapping paper. “Close friendships, lines get blurry. Or people misinterpret.”

"I don't think I know how to have a relationship," Nat said quietly, setting Clint's present in the done pile and digging around for the next thing to wrap. "Not like that. Maybe a warm body now and then is all that's in the cards for me.”

“You do pretty good at friendships, you know.”

Nat gave that small, shy smile that only they ever seemed to see. "Thanks. It's a work in progress.”

Laura watched Nat a moment as she got to wrapping an awkwardly shaped Transformer box for Cooper, and measured the weight of her own thoughts. “You know most of the other Avengers thought you and Clint were together.”

Nat's fingers stilled, but she didn't look back at Laura. "People assume things.”

“I am pretty damn certain they were assuming wrong, because I know you both. But Tony and Bruce had money on it.”

"That does sort of explain Tony's reaction to finding out about you. If you cost him money.”

“I’d imagine if you don’t know how to have a relationship, you probably don’t notice the vibe you are giving off.”

"They're first impression of us was that whole mess with Loki and the Battle of New York. Emotions were running high and Clint was kind of a mess. I'm sure we came off as something. . . more.”

“You still do,” Laura said quietly. Nat was looking at her now, panic in her eyes. Laura understood naked emotion wasn’t something Natasha Romanov did much. So Laura said, “I’m getting a drink, you want a drink?”

"I would love a drink very much," Nat said all in a rush.

There was a bottle of vodka in the freezer, and Laura got it and two glasses. It was good stuff, Nat was a snob about that. They both had a good slug before anyone spoke again.

"It's not intentional," Nat finally said, pouring herself a few more fingers. "Whatever vibe it is we give off. We're not aware of it.”

“Despite my questioning, it is an entirely different vibe than you give off with Steve. And I’ve never seen it here. But I watched you guys dance at Tony and Pepper’s wedding and I could see what they saw.”

Nat drank more of her vodka, hopping up on the edge of the counter. Laura sipped her drink and watched her face. For all her years of abuse and training, Nat's face could be remarkably expressive when she was among friends. Now she was clearly wrestling with what to say and how to say it. If her lips pursed anymore they'd disappear. 

"I won't say I'm not attracted to him," she said finally, looking in her glass. "He's probably the only man I've ever been attracted to. Like that. On my own."

Laura blinked, surprised. “Ever?”

"It was always controlled by the Red Room. Then SHIELD. It took me a long time to not see people - men - as targets. Puzzles to undo so I could do what I needed to. Clint was the first person I realized I knew everything about just because I liked him, not because I wanted something from him.”

Taking another drink, Laura sat at the kitchen table. “So if I didn’t exist, would you. . .?”

"I don't know." It sounded like a cop out answer and Laura was about to call her on it when she continued, "He's still my best friend. And I don't know how to have a relationship, so I'd certainly fuck it up. But. . . I'd want to."

“You have all the pieces, you know. That’s about how you do a good relationship. Your best friend that you sleep with.”

Laura had brought the vodka bottle with her, so when Nat drained her glass she had to hop off the counter and join her. "I don't know. I feel like I still have triggers. Parts of me that might blow up. I've never had a relationship before, so I don't know how I'd react. You're so steady. Clint knows where he stands with you, always. Everyone does. I can't give him that, not really."

“People bring different things to the table. I might be steady, but I am _boring_.”

"For people like me and Clint, for the lives we lead, boring is really appealing."

Laura was on her second drink now. “Boring midwestern housewife and a husband with a intense job involving a lot of international travel is the beginning of a trope that doesn’t have a happy ending.”

"Those other wives aren't married to Clint." Nat looked into her glass a moment. "If we're going to have this conversation. . . We did come close once, after Loki and the battle. Didn't go any farther than a kiss. But we were both pretty drunk and emotions were high. If it didn't happen then. . . It's not going to."

The vodka had stopped burning, a sign that Laura was good and drunk. “You know something? I wouldn’t mind if it was you.”

Nat shot her a sharp, surprised look. “What?"

“I don’t know. Thinking about it doesn’t make me feel upset. I trust you. My libido isn’t what it was a decade ago, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

She seemed to consider that a moment, then carefully edged the vodka bottle farther away from Laura. "Clint would totally think that was a trap.”

“Oh yeah. He absolutely would.”

"I will take it as a compliment." There was more to that sentiment. Probably regret that it wouldn't happen. But neither of them were drunk enough to pursue it.

They were certainly drunk enough to wrap the remaining presents in an appallingly bad fashion, laugh uproariously about it, and both fall asleep on the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Clint,” she said, cutting him off, deciding it was okay to chuckle a little. “I’m not offering you a handmaiden to service you in my stead.”_

Steve and Nat went back to DC after New Years and Clint stayed at the farm for one of the longest stretches of time in a while. It was a good spring. Cooper made varsity baseball at school, Lila won her class spelling bee and Clint took apart the back porch. Laura was starting to storyboard a novel about a house that constantly changed its layout.

Clint went on some sort of op in Afghanistan in early April, and if Laura was honest it was a little nice to have the bed to herself. She loved him, and she missed him when he was gone. But their marriage had been full of stretches of separation, and it was part of their rhythm. Sometimes they liked their space.

Then she turned on the new one afternoon and saw video of helicarriers burning and crashing into the Potomac River.

The news was giving conflicting reports on what had happened and no one she had a number for actually answered her phone calls. There was nothing she could do, so, like she'd once told Pepper, she distracted herself by caring for the kids. They needed homework help and dinner and to be reminded to go shower and get their clothes ready for the next day.

She was washing the dinner dishes and she damn near broke her neck to get it.

"No one we like is dead," Nat said, sounding exhausted. "Though it was a close one for Steve.”

Laura leaned against the wall by the phone. “Are you all right?”

"Well, I've been shot, electrocuted and almost had two buildings collapse on me but I'm mostly fine. I know Clint was on a mission, do you know any details or how to get a hold of him?”

“It was Black Ops, I never have contact with those.” She sighed. “But usually he has you. The news seems to know about SHIELD, what is happening?”

She could hear Nat blow out a breath. "How much do you remember about Hydra from your high school History class?"

"Off shoot of the Nazis, big problem for Steve, lead by a weird guy with a red skull."

"Right. Well, turns out it was functioning alive and well in the bowels of SHEILD. Tweaking history to cause chaos. They killed JFK and Tony's dad, apparently, and tried to kill a couple million people at once today, but we managed to stop them. The fall out is, SHEILD is gone. So whatever exit plan Clint had is gone. Now, I talked to Stark and he's ready to fly out anywhere in the world, in the suit or a plane as needed, but it doesn't do me any good until I can track down Clint.”

“Where is Fury?”

“Pretending to be dead.”

Laura rubbed her forehead and took a steadying breath. “I don’t know what to do.”

"Do you have any sort of emergency number for him? Something you're only supposed to use if the house is on fire or something?”

“I have both Fury and Hill’s cell phone numbers. He’ll check in at some point, won’t he?”

"He should, yeah, if he can find a line he trusts." Nat grumbled something in Russian and clicked her tongue, like she did when she was thinking. "Okay. I'll circle around with Fury and Maria again, see if we have any lines we haven't used. If Clint does get in touch with you have him call me at this number." She paused. "Try not to worry, for all I know he's already found a ride and is hitting US airspace.”

“I always worry. About both of you.”

"I know. You're a good mom. I'm stuck here in DC for a little while but I'll come out as soon as I can. And once I know what's going on with Clint you're my first call.”

“Thank you. We’ll be here.”

"Hug the kids for me. I'll be in touch.”

It was a very long, sleepless night before Clint called her. The connection was terrible, from a somewhere in the middle of nowhere in northern Pakistan. “I’m going to make my way down to Karachi, where I have a bolt hole and some spare IDs I hope are good enough for international travel. And then figure out how to get home.”

“Nat said Tony would send something to come get you, you just need to call her."

He blew out a breath. "Okay, that's much easier than my first idea of high jacking an empty plane. Give me her best number?" Laura rattled off the one Nat had contacted her from. "I'll see where the best place for him to meet up is, but this simplifies things. With any luck I'll be there for bedtime tomorrow.”

“Please stay safe,” she told him.

"Always," he promised. "I'll see you soon.”

It was a bit after bedtime when he finally arrived, but she let them stay up because she knew he was inbound. They eventually got Cooper to bed, but Lila insisted on sleeping in between them.

“It’s been a long couple days,” Laura whispered after Lila had passed out.

"I know," he said softly, stroking Lila's hair out of her face. "For me, too.”

“All the SHEILD data is on the internet, is someone going to come find us?”

He shook his head. "I asked Nat. She did some creative deleting while uploading it. I'm not in there anywhere. Not the stuff I did for Loki, not you and the kids. Nothing.”

Laura smiled. “That sounds very Nat.”

"She takes care of us in her own way.”

“Is she going to come home?”

"She has to testify before congress, and help Steve with something. Said she'd be out in a week or two.”

Clint decided he needed to repaint the barn over the next few weeks, which somehow also then involved him replacing its doors. But he was restless and at loose ends—and now unemployed—so Laura was just glad he wasn’t tearing up something in the house itself.

They watched Nat testify on CNN, and ignored the commentary afterwards. She called to tell them she'd be on her way soon. The kids - who they'd mostly shielded from the current goings on - were extremely excited about Auntie Nat visiting.

Two days after the hearings, a beat up red Jeep trundled up the driveway. Laura recognized it from the front porch as the car Nat kept in storage near the airport. She usually stayed too long for a rental car to be practical, and said her sports car didn't match the farm aesthetic.

The kids recognized the car, too, and she heard them thundering down the stairs like a herd of elephants. They were out on the porch before she even got it parked. “Auntie Nat!”

She climbed out of the Jeep, laughing as Cooper and Lila both tried to hug her at once. "Careful careful, my shoulders a little sore." Still, she managed to scoop Lila up and put her on her right hip as she walked up to the house, bumping Cooper as she did. "Look at you. I'm going to need a step stool to hug you soon.”

Laura came down the steps. “They were worried about you.” Nat looked exhausted, and Laura reached out an arm. “Come on in, I’ll make you tea.”

Nat stepped close, leaning into her for a one armed hug before following her into the house. She flipped Lila over her arm and onto the couch and took a seat at the cluttered island. "Clint done any demo yet?”

“He’s been painting the barn, which is time consuming. We watched you on c-span.” Laura paused. “They don’t _actually_ know where to find you, do they? Because anybody who comes to arrest you, Clint is going to kill.”

Nat laughed softly. "No, they don't know where to find me. They have a phone number that goes to a call center that will take messages for me that I can check with a burner phone that is spoofed to bounce messages off a Stark satellite that makes it look like I'm in London. I wouldn't leave any trail here.”

Laura nodded. “Well, it was a great line.”

"Sometimes that's what matters." Laura brought her tea and come cornbread she'd made for dinner the night before and she dug in. "Steve's off on a wild goose chase. I think I'll lay low here for a while. Maybe everyone will forget about me.”

“And have some time to figure out what comes next?”

She gave a thin smile. "That too. Though God knows what my options are.”

“It’s not exciting, but you always have a place here.”

"I almost died three times last month. I'd love some not-exciting.”

The kitchen door banged open. “There you are!” Clint stomped the mud off his boots. “Did you show her your shoulder?”

"It's not as impressive as it was," Nat told him. "Mostly fading bruises and new scar.”

“Aw, you know I love a good gunshot wound,” Laura said, only half joking.

Without a word, Nat unbuttoned the surely ironic plaid flannel she was wearing and pulled the left sleeve and bra strap down to show a scarred up gunshot wound and heavy bruising on her shoulder near her collar bone.

Laura stared at it a moment, then asked, “Vodka?”

"Maybe later," she said, rebutting her shirt. "I was sort of hoping Clint had something I could take a sledgehammer to.”

“Until your shoulder heels I’m not giving you anything larger than a hammer,” he replied. “But I do have a hammer.”

"Just show me what to destroy boss man.”

Later that night they did drink some vodka, and with the two of them telling the story together, Laura got much more detail. It was clear they were both still reeling, and there wasn’t much she could do other than make sure they had a safe place to land.

Clint fell asleep on the couch, head in her lap and feet in Nat's. He'd been up early to feed the animals and take Cooper to baseball practice. Laura was pleasantly buzzed and even Nat seemed to have loosened up. 

"Can I ask you something?" Nat said quietly as Laura was pondering the logistics of moving out from under him.

Laura turned her head. “Anything.”

"You said once. . . you'd be okay with me and Clint-" She made a vague, graceful gesture with her hand. "Were you serious?”

That Christmas Eve was the last time this vodka bottle had been opened, too. “Is that part of your figuring yourself out?”

"Maybe? Mostly it's the multiple near deaths. It put things in perspective. What you value most in life. What you regret." She glanced down at Clint, smiling a little. "Choices you've made." She looked back at Laura. "I'd cut my arm off before I hurt you, so tell me to shut up and I will. But I decided I wanted to ask.”

“Hey, I was the one who volunteered it.” She brushed some of Clint’s hair off his forehead. It was getting shaggy and needed a cut. “There’s a whole side of him I don’t understand, that you do. And that’s the kind of thing that should feel alienating, but it doesn’t. You actually feel like a piece that fits and makes the whole thing work together.” She tipped her head back. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

"You are. I think you are. I'm just wondering. . . maybe we should have this conversation sober." She paused. "And maybe let Clint get a vote.”

“I agree on both those counts.” She looked at Nat, thinking about what she’d said about never having been attracted to anyone else. “But we _should_ have it.”

"Kids have school on Monday?”

“Yes. Then?”

"Might as well get it over with. And then we'll have a full day of privacy to hash it out.”

Monday morning, Clint walked the kids to the bus stop on the county road at the end of their drive. Laura made breakfast for the rest of them, and Nat sat at the kitchen table.

"This is going to be a weird conversation to start," Nat admitted as they waited for him to come back up the walk.

“You are better at that sort of thing than I am,” Laura said. She could write with elegance but she couldn’t sell water in the desert. “Unless we want to pass notes.”

"I think your main job will be to convince Clint you're serious and it isn't an elaborate trap." She squinted and a moment later Laura heard his steps on the porch. "Here we go.”

Clint walked in, and stopped in the doorway, looking from one to the other. “Okay. What did I do?”

"Nothing," they said in unison, which probably wasn't reassuring at all.

Laura brought the food over to the table, handing him his coffee. "We just want to talk."

Still skeptical, he went over to take a seat. Laura joined them and glanced at Nat, hoping she'd come up with a way to start.

She cleared her throat, hands curled around her coffee mug. "A few months ago, while breaking out the vodka, Laura and I had a very honest conversation about how I feel about you. I told her about the kiss after the Battle of New York. And she told me that, all things being equal, she'd be okay with you and I. . . continuing where that was headed. I put it out of my mind, until last month when I had to do a lot of thinking about my life and what I want out of it. So when I came out here I revisited the topic with her. And we decided maybe you'd like to be part of the conversation this time.”

Clint looked surprised a moment, and it was rare to see emotion on his face. Then he looked at Laura. “Is this. . . is this about the other night? It is completely fine if you’re not in the mood, I’m a big boy, I don’t require-“

“Clint,” she said, cutting him off, deciding it was okay to chuckle a little. “I’m not offering you a handmaiden to service you in my stead.”

"Though if you wanted to role play we could work that in," Nat said dryly. "This isn't about your libido, though maybe it plays into it. I think this is about Laura trusting both of us. And how maybe there's a piece of the puzzle that's missing that's worth exploring.”

“I want to say yes,” Clint said slowly. “My gut says I should simply deny everything and swear there are no missing pieces.” 

Laura could see the war he was having with himself, and thought how she really did adore this man. He’d put all of this away and never speak of it again if she so much hinted in that direction. They both would, even if it eventually made them miserable. “That’s because your gut was socialized that monogamy is the only acceptable way. Maybe it’s not. I just feel like. . . Natasha is part of this family. She’s not a guest, this is home. If we leave whatever simmers between you two unspoken, none of us will ever feel settled.”

"It doesn't have to be now, or tonight, or next week," Nat said. "We've both had it in the back of our heads, getting used to the idea, to get this far. This is a first conversation, it doesn't have to be anything more.”

“A night to sleep on it wouldn’t be the worst thing.” He paused. “You don’t think this has the potential to blow up in our faces?”

"Everything has the potential to blow up in our faces," Laura told him. "But I honestly think getting it in the open and seeing what comes of it is less likely to end badly than trying to ignore and hide it. We're all adults, we can use our words and figure this out.”

“All right,” he said. “I’m willing to try it.”

Nat grinned, a wide happy smile Laura wasn't sure she'd ever seen before. Then she reached over and rubbed the back of his hand with one knuckle. "Thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Morning. I feel like I should clap.” Laura laughed in surprise, and Nat gestured at the door with a spatula. “I sent Lila out to get the eggs once I realized what the noise was.” Pause. “And that man deserves a medal for stamina.”_

The following weekend, Cooper had a sleepover and a friend’s house. Lila had an early bedtime and could then sleep through a tornado. It was the perfect night to test their theories.

If they lived in a city, Clint and Nat could have gone to a hotel. But since it was the middle of nowhere, it was easiest for them to just go upstairs to her room. Laura was perfectly content with the entire situation, but there was no etiquette for what to do with yourself while your husband was having sex with another woman upstairs.

She decided on work, because she had a draft deadline coming up, and it was something she could get lost in. It was late by the time she went upstairs, late enough she figured they had to be asleep. 

The master bathroom was between their room and Nat’s room, and the bed was on that wall. A fact she only realized when she went in there to brush her teeth. She’d just pulled out a string of floss when she heard voices on the other side of the wall. Not words, but an unmistakable moan. She turned and looked at the wall over the tub as if she could see through it.

It was muffled, but she could hear Nat’s voice saying, “Do that again.” It was followed by a cry, sharp and desperate. Laura leaned against the sink, her heart beating faster.

She had expected to be okay with it, had bet everything on it, in fact. She had not, in her wildest fantasies, thought she might get turned on by it.

Through the wall came the rumble of Clint's voice. She could discern the words, but she knew the tone, the cadence, had heard it hundreds of times in their own bed. Something that might have been a laugh from Nat and then another hitched cry of pleasure.

She didn’t know if it was okay for her to stand there and listen, but she couldn’t move. The bed in there was wood and old and she could hear it creak, and the creak pick up a rhythm. She stood there, braced against the sink, listening as the rhythm increased, then peaked. Nat gave another cry, one that shot right through Laura's core. It was followed a few minutes later but a deep, dark sound from Clint, and a slowing of the creaking into silence.

Laura abandoned the tooth brushing and went back to her bedroom, trying to ignore the ache between her legs. She eyed her nightstand for a moment, where her vibes lived—her husband was away a lot, she had a collection. But it felt weird to her, to masturbate to the sounds of them having sex, at least without discussing it. She absolutely did not want to join them, that was not her thing. But _damn_ had that been hot.

Maybe they could discuss it tomorrow.

Her dreams were as smutty as to be expected. When she woke up in the morning, the shower was running. After a moment she got up and went in there, standing in the doorway to watch him through the cloudy glass. 

He didn't notice her right away, probably lost in his own thoughts. When he did spot her, he jerked a little and turned the water off, stepping out. "Hey," he said, sounding a little uncertain.

“Good night?” she asked. She tried not to stare too openly, but he looked really good naked.

"Uh. . . yeah. It was. A little awkward at first. But it was. Good.”

“You know these walls are pretty thin.”

His eyes widened and apologies started tumbling out of his mouth. “I didn’t even think, I am so-“

Crossing the room, she put her fingers over his mouth to stop the word ‘sorry’ from coming out. But now he was close enough she could feel the heat coming off his body, and droplets of water fell on her. When she met his eyes they darkened, and she knew he understood. His lips moved to kiss her fingers, and she let her hand fall away. “So it’s like that?” he murmured, his voice a rumble.

“Yeah,” she whispered, and then she kissed him, because she had to. He growled, probably at the intensity of it, then wrapped his arms around her. He half lifted her, then one hand slid down to cup her ass through the thin cotton of her nightgown. She arched against him in encouragement, and he backed her up against the bathroom door, his hands finding their way under the fabric to bare skin. When he dipped his head to kiss her neck, she kept talking. “I could hear the bed creaking. I could hear you come. I know the sound you make.”

His breathing got harsh and she felt his teeth as he kissed her shoulder. One hand slid up her thigh and she felt his callused fingers graze the seam of her sex. He growled again. "You're soaked.”

She opened her legs more. “I have been since last night.”

He stroked her, just how she liked. "Do you want me to tell you about it?" he asked, free hand cupping her breast through her gown.

She was way, way too turned on to worry if that was weird. “Tell me. Do it to me. Fuck me like you fucked her.”

"Yes ma'am," he rumbled, teasing. Then two thick fingers slid inside her, as he pressed his thumb to her clit. The door rattled a little as she leaned on it. He fucked her slowly with his fingers, tapping lightly on her G-spot when he found it. "She liked this a lot. Said she'd always wondered what my hands would feel like.”

“I love your hands,” she told him. Something he knew, but she never got tired of telling him. Afraid she would fall, she held on to his shoulders. He pressed closer, holding her up, and pushing into her hard. His thumb strummed her clit, rough calluses sending fireworks through her. “Is. . . is this what she asked you to. . . keep doing?”

She could feel him grin against her skin. "You could hear us. And yes. Specifically this." He pressed his fingers deep inside her and tapped rapidly against her G-spot. If he wasn’t holding her her knees would have given out as the orgasm hit her. It was sharp and fast and shot through her in waves.

"That's my girl," he rumbled in her ear and she had to wonder if that's what he'd said to Nat the night before. 

She turned her head and her mouth found his in a deep, desperate kiss. She slid her hands down his back, letting nails scrape his skin, and against his mouth she murmured, “What’s next?”

"You heard the bed creaking, I bet you can guess." He hiked her nightgown up around her hips and cupped the back of her legs, lifting her off the ground and pressing her back into the door. She barely had time to wind her legs around him before he thrust into her in one long, smooth stroke. This, this was what she wanted, and felt so good she cried out. The door rattled again. “Oh, God, you’re going to crack the wood.”

"Only fair," he told her, rocking into her. "Pretty sure we broke the bed.”

“Please,” she begged him. “Please, harder.” The door thumped against the wall, which seemed to get the attention of the small corner of his mind that remembered his obsession with the integrity of the plaster walls. Or perhaps he wanted more space. Whatever it was, he lifted her off the door without pulling out of her, staggering a few feet into their bedroom. He might have been heading for the bed, but they didn’t even make it to the rug before she was on her back on the wood floor. She pulled her legs up so she could take him deeper, gasping when he bottomed out.

It was fast and intense after that. She could feel herself sliding on the floor as he moved, but didn't care, focused entirely on the pleasure building inside her. Clint made a desperate sound, finding her mouth in a rough kiss, clearly near his limit. It was probably good he was swallowing the sounds she was making because she couldn’t be quiet. She got right to the edge and he canted his hips a certain way and she saw stars. “Right there, right there,” she cried as she ground up against him, tightening her legs to hold him still. Then it snapped and she screamed as shattered into pieces.

He made that raspy, rumbly noise she knew so well and sank into her, stilling as he rode through his own release.

Laura gasped for air, and opened her eyes to look at the ceiling. They had just had sex against the bathroom door, and on their bedroom floor, in broad daylight. And it had been _fantastic_. “My God.”

Clint laughed a little. "Yeah. Starting to wonder if I've dreamed the last few days.”

“Hey,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I love you.”

"I love you too," he told her, kissing her. "So much.”

He shifted off her, and slowly they sat up. Her thighs burned and her shoulders were probably bruised. “But we might be getting too old for floor sex.”

"It can be a sometimes thing." He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at her, looking almost boyish. "So, uh, seems like there was an unexpected benefit to our experiment?”

Laura cleared her throat. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

He laughed. “Honey, I can’t believe you find _anything_ weird anymore. You once got me to draw the best stabbing locations on your skin with an eyeliner pencil.”

“Well, you know, research.”

"It's not weird." He kissed her and tucked some of her hair back behind her ear. "Like I said, it's an unexpected benefit. I was happy you were okay with this arrangement. Enthusiastically horny wasn't even a thought.”

“I feel like I want to explain this to Nat. Like, she should know and be okay with it if I’m going to listen.”

"That's fair. Seems like this whole thing requires a lot of talking and checking in." She had the sense he didn't just mean them.

Laura leaned over and kissed him. “I’m going to shower, go see if Lila’s up.”

"On it," he said, rolling to his feet and reaching down to help her up.

She kissed him when she stood, and then went into the bathroom. After her shower, she went downstairs. Nat was in the kitchen washing dishes alone. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “Morning. I feel like I should clap.” Laura laughed in surprise, and Nat gestured at the door with a spatula. “I sent Lila out to get the eggs once I realized what the noise was.” Pause. “And that man deserves a medal for stamina.”

“That was. . .” Laura coughed and cleared her throat. She had no idea they had apparently been that loud. “Yeah.”

Nat studied her a moment. "Sort of a stupid question, I guess, but everything okay?”

“Very okay. How about you?”

Laura swore the other woman blushed a little, which was a first. "I'm really, really good. It started out a little awkward and oddly terrifying. But we got through it. And sleeping next to him felt very right.”

“So this may be. . .I don’t know. . .” Laura rubbed her forehead and tried again, feeling herself blush now. “I could, uh, hear you guys. And I, well, liked it.”

Nat's brows lifted. "Is that what prompted-?” She pointed up to the ceiling.

“It did. And I asked him to tell me about it. I later realized that might bother you and I should check.”

"It doesn't bother me," she assured her. "Do you want to join us?”

Laura shook her head. “No. Please don’t be offended. I’m not bi and group sex doesn’t appeal anyway. It’s more. . . conceptually erotic, I think. I think. I didn’t know I was into this so I’m still trying to figure it out.”

"I'm glad you get something out of this," Nat told her sincerely.

“Thank you. I’m glad you had a good night.”

"Thank you. So it this. . . we're going to keep doing this?”

“I’d like to. For as long as we’re all happy with it.”

Nat smiled and nodded. "Sounds good to me.”

The three of them found a rhythm that worked. Clint and Nat’s downtime didn’t last as long as they’d feared, because there was plenty of cleanup after the SHIELD/Hydra debacle that the Avengers needed to do. The two of them went back and forth to New York, and to missions. Sometimes Laura and the kids came along, but mostly they stayed on the farm. She still liked her space. Clint and Nat had a lot of post-mission sex in creative places, which Laura loved to hear about. She suspected Clint was embellishing the tales a little, but that was all right with her. 

“Something I was thinking about,” she said to Clint one of the nights he slept in her bed. “After the Battle of New York, you said you wanted to have another baby.”

"Mmm, yeah." He played with her hair idly. "Feeling my mortality a little. The kids always help with that.”

“Do you still want to?”

He looked down at her, clearly surprised. "I'd kind of put it out of my mind. You were pretty adamant on your no and you are the one who has to do most of the work.”

“It’s just, well, we have a 3rd adult. Maybe it’s time to revisit the topic. If we all wanted.”

He was quiet a moment. "I honestly don't know what Nat will think. But I'd like to find out.”

Nat turned out to be entirely enthusiastic. Because Laura was 37 at this point, they all knew getting pregnant might take some doing. Nat planned it out like an op—there was an entire chart of optimal days because she wanted to make sure no sperm was wasted on her, so to speak. It was adorable and made it feel like a communal effort.

So when it become obvious that medical help was likely to be required, they decided to take the path with the highest success odds. Nat was young and her eggs were in excellent shape. Laura had the working uterus Nat lacked. The baby born the following summer was _theirs_ , all three of them.

The birth itself caused quite a bit of drama. Cooper and Lila had both been born at home, with midwives. Clint made jokes about squatting in one of the fields. The nearest hospital was a 45 minute drive on a good day, a drive Laura didn’t want to make in active labor. 

This time, because of the IVF and her age and eventually some concerns with her blood pressure, she was several kinds of high risk. But, said hospital had both an appallingly high c-section rate, and a very backwards policy of only allowing one support person in the room. Not to mention how much Laura hated the bright, loud, and restrictive environment in a hospital.

There was quite a bit of debate and argument and argument, and it was Nat that found a solution. At the end of her pregnancy they hired a couple of hands to look after the farm, and took the family to stay in Avengers Tower in New York. She delivered in a private birthing suite in the same fancy hospital Pepper had Morgan in. It had curtains and a real bed and tub she could labor in, dim lights and space for all the people she wanted. All with an entire modern hospital down the hall for emergencies.

Once it was clear everyone was healthy, the medical personal left the them alone with the baby. The bed was more like a full size than a queen, but the two of them managed to squeeze on it with her, just for a little bit.

“Am I the only one who’s a little disappointed his hair’s not red?” Laura asked after a moment.

Nat ruffled the downy brown tufts covering Nate's head. "Give it time. It might redden as he grows up.”

“He’s got some good genes in him,” Clint said with a grin. He turned to kiss Laura’s temple. “You did great, by the way.” He looked around. “Do I even want to know what this cost?”

“I have no idea,” Laura said. “Pepper paid for it.”

"That's the best way to approach things the Starks pay for," Nat confirmed. Laura passed Nate over so she could hold him. She handled him like the most precious thing in the world, kissing his head and murmuring in Russian.

“We should teach him Russian, shouldn’t we?”

"Pretty sure he'll learn it regardless," Clint said. "Lila still mumbles in it sometimes.”

“Not just cursing and lullabies,” Laura said. “He’s half Russian, he should be able to speak it fully.”

"I'll be happy to teach him," Nat said, rocking him gently. "Hmm? You can speak Russian with your _mamushka_ and tease your siblings.”

Clint reached across Laura to stroke the baby’s tiny foot. “Let’s not raise him to be a spy, huh?”

Laura laughed. “That’s fine by me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She had loved Laura, for the kindness she'd shown a broken, fragile girl her husband had brought home. But she'd also sort of hated her for having the life Nat never would._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important note:** we've now switched back to the original timeline, the one the team remembers from before their use of the glove created the alternate timeline. This one basically mirrors canon, where Clint and Nat were just friends.
> 
> Beware, this is not a happy chapter.

_Five Years Later_   
_Original Timeline_

Natasha Romanov wasn’t a person to sit idle much, no matter how much grief crippled her. Maybe it was the Russian in her. In the winter, you kept moving or you froze to death. At first, they were trying desperately to find Thanos, to find a way to undo it. In retrospect she regretted it, as some of the worst effects happened in the immediate aftermath, and the world could have used the Avengers.

They had shattered and collapsed after their second failure. Tony and Steve had it out, and then Tony and Pepper moved to California. Thor went to Norway to drink his way to oblivion. Bruce retreated into the labs and eventually somewhere out in the woods. Their team psychologist finally caved under the stress and moved out west. Steve moved down to New York City because he said he couldn’t stand the quiet. He was about as deep in the hole as Nat was, so they weren’t much help to each other.

Clint hadn’t dusted, but she had no idea where he’d gone, or if he was even still alive.

People tended to come together in time of crisis, a quirk of humanity that tided everyone over for a while. But eventually, the vultures reappeared. 

“You guys lasted pretty long,” Carol Danvers told Nat the next time she came to visit. “Plenty of planets dissolved immediately into a chaos and war.” She shuddered. “You’ll need operational support. Who’s got the most functional government?”

“A surprisingly large amount.” Nat sighed, getting up to make more coffee. They hadn’t had decent coffee at the compound since Lani Yee left. "Humans like to organize themselves. But most of them have become very isolationist. The region that is in the best order is probably Africa. I have no idea what is going on in Wakanda, the King dusted and there was some chaos about succession, but they are keeping their neighbors in order and functional.”

“Why don’t we talk to them?” Carol suggested.

“I don’t know that they are fond of us, considering we brought Thanos to them.”

“Yeah, but a lot of things are different now.” Carol grinned. “I’ll protect you if they shoot you.”

It was a moot point, because she called Okoye, rather than showing up on their doorstep. The general was stiff, but cordial, and agreed that it was past time some sort of world wide enforcement came into play. "It is clear plenty of the worst of society survived," Okoye said. "I am tired of crushing ants. It would be a relief to have the resources to take out the hive if necessary."

“That’s been my thought,” Nat said. 

“I will discuss it with the royal council and get back to you—but I expect the answer to be yes. The Queen is fond of international outreach. I just need to make sure none of the tribes object, as we’ve just finally gotten everyone settled down.”

"Of course. I don't want to stir up trouble for you. I hope we can be beneficial allies to one another." She found Okoye's little nod reassuring. "I'll await the councils response," Nat said before they said their goodbyes.

“Okay,” Carol said. “Who else?”

Nat tilted her head. “You got a deep space transmitter?”

And so they cobbled together a team, of sorts, both on and off world. Rhodey came on board, which was a relief, since he still had contacts in what was left of the American military. Okoye and the Wakandans took care of Africa and a good chunk of the Middle East and Asia. Nat focused on North and South America, plus organized the space teams when necessary. It was busy, and at times overwhelming, but it kept her busy. So busy she couldn't think, or worry, or mourn. So busy she could collapse into bed at night and not remember her dreams.

Steve seemed to worry about her the most. Perhaps he was simply the one who paid the most attention. “You ever take a day off, Nat?”

"Justice never sleeps," she told him, in the deep, gruff voice she used to use to make fun of him and the other boys.

“It was nice out in California. Despite the battery of weird medical tests I let Amanda subject me to.”

Steve had just come back from visiting Stark's group. Yee had somehow managed to get the two of them talking out their problems. The woman really was a miracle worker. "I'm sure California is great," she said, puttering in the kitchen to make tea. "Sounds like the rest of them are doing just fine.”

“Mostly. They’ve got the kid calling me Uncle Steve. Only it comes out Unca Teeb, which is painfully cute.”

Nat tried to ignore the painful stab of memory that caused. "If you're not careful that might become permanent." She brought over the plate of cookies she'd baked earlier, joining him at the table while the water boiled. "You and Tony doing better?”

“Yeah. Resentment is corrosive. Better to get it all cleaned out. For a while I was pissed at him for taking the offended high horse when he lost so much less.” He took a bite of the cookies. “I told him about Sharon.”

Steve's secret girlfriend that only a couple of them knew about had been ashed. "He did sort of win the loved-one lottery in this didn't he?”

“Yeah. And he doesn’t always, you know, pay attention to the needs of others and I don’t think he really thought about how much worse it was for just about everyone else.” He met Nat’s eyes. “Some of us lost nearly everyone.”

She tried very hard not to think about an empty farmhouse covered in ash. The kettle whistled, saving her from the look Steve was giving her. "You still running that support group down in the City?”

He nodded. “Keeps me occupied.”

"It's good to stay occupied," she said, pouring hot water into two mugs and bringing them and her tea selection over. "Neither of us is good at being idle.”

“You should come out to California with me one of these times.”

"Maybe," she said, hoping it would end the conversation. "Depending on what's going on with the team.”

“It would do you good to get out the compound for something other than a mission, is all.”

Getting a "move on with your life" lecture from Steve Rogers was some rich irony. "Steve. Leave it alone, please.”

He held up his hands. “Just a suggestion.”

"I know. I appreciate the concern." That was sort of a lie, but it was what you were supposed to say in these sort of situations. "I'm doing this my way, the way I need to. It's not the first time I've lost everything and had to figure it out from scratch.”

“Me too,” he said quietly, after a moment. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it to keep trying."

She stared into her tea, watching the color seep into the paler water. "Sooner or later it has to be the last time, right?”

“I don’t know. If Thor has run out of optimism, maybe we’re all doomed.”

"Thor lost more than any of us." Apparently, even Thor had a limit to the amount of grief he could handle. "But I promise I haven't dove into a keg.”

“Well, for you it would be vodka.” He said it with a smile, so she knew he was teasing.

"Damn right," she said in her cheesiest Russian accent, sipping her tea.

The anniversary of the snap was a day of international morning. There were ceremonies and all manner of things most of the Avengers deliberately avoided. Many of those that were left would find their way to the compound to hide from the news and drink a toast together. It made the day bearable.

But there were other anniversaries, personal ones, that hurt just as much. Each of them tended to suffer those alone. 

July 10th was Nat’s worst day. It was the birthday of the closest thing she’d had to a child of her own.

Nathaniel Barton had been conceived when Laura was in her late thirties. After trying it the old fashioned way for several months, it became clear intervention would be necessary. Laura had been declared a bad candidate for egg retrieval. Nat, for all the Red Room had done to her, had two perfect, untouched ovaries spitting out useless eggs.

It had not occurred to her, when she'd offered, or all through the series of shots and medications and painful extraction, how hard it would be to watch the only child she'd ever have be raised by someone else. Someone who also had the only man she'd ever really wanted.

She had loved Laura, for the kindness she'd shown a broken, fragile girl her husband had brought home. But she'd also sort of hated her for having the life Nat never would.

Nate's birth had been the end of her long visits to the farm. Clint had sent her regular pictures, though, and she had them all, trying not to let it break her heart when she looked at his little face and saw her eyes and Clint's jaw and his brown hair slowly turning to auburn.

On the day that would have been his 6th birthday, his father showed up on her doorstep.

She hadn't seen him since right after Thanos was killed and she'd had to tell him there was no way to get his family back. Everyone grieved in their own way and at the time she had no hope to comfort to give him, so she hadn't blanked him for walking away. But she'd missed him, and even on this day, she was happy to see him.

"Hi," she said quietly, letting him the living area of the compound.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. She noticed his left arm sported several tattoos, which was new. “Hi. I just. . . wanted to see a familiar face.”

"Yeah. It's a bad day." She cleared her throat. "You want some lunch?”

“Lunch sounds good. Thank you.” He followed her into the kitchen.

She didn't keep a lot of food in the pantry, not being much of a cook, but she always had sandwich fixings, and was able to put together a decent spread to offer him. Putting the bottle of vodka on the table was probably a mistake, but they both likely needed it.

“You’re a saint,” he said, and took a swig straight from it. Then he added, “Most of their birthdays I get drunk.”

"I've had those days," she told him, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“The goal was to be numb, but mostly I settled for unconscious.” He ate some of his sandwich. “I try not to, otherwise. Drink too much. The world is overrun with alcoholics.”

"Yeah," she said on a sigh. "It's an easy slope to slide down." But today, as he'd said, was a special occasion. So she reached out and grabbed the bottle to take her own swig.

“You’re doing good work,” he said eventually.

She glanced at him, then back at her sandwich, hating how strange and awkward this felt. She had never felt awkward around Clint. "I'm trying to. Mostly I just coordinate the different teams.”

He sighed, and took another drink. “You think it will ever get better?”

Nat poked at the second half of her sandwich, appetite gone. "I do. I have to. No one can grieve forever. It's corrosive.”

“Or we corrode until nothing is left.”

"I suppose that's the other option." There had been a lot of people in their situation who had taken that way out. A few months after the Snap suicide had been the number one cause of death, but a large margin. Numbers were dropping now, but it had been very bad, for a lot of people.

“You’d think if he was going to kill half the universe, he could at least have the decency to kill the worst half.”

She reached for the vodka bottle. "I get the sense his big master plan wasn't all that thought out.”

“I’ve been thinking about going hunting,” he said after a moment.

There was something. . . very dark in the way he said that. She knew what he meant. It was what they'd called it when they went after big bads. Before big bads were aliens and gods. "Officially or unofficially?" He gave her an odd look and she clarified, "I have a file of people we can't get to. Kingpins and cartels with enough security or friends in high places it's not worth the loss of our limited man power to deal with them. I could hand them over to you. Or I could leave my computer suspiciously open. Depends on how much you want Rhodey and Carol breathing down your neck.”

That got her half a smile. “I’m not worried about them.”

"Still, I'll just leave the computer awake and unlocked after lunch. Forgetful in my old age.”

Clint had another drink. “I didn’t just come for intel,” he told her. “I. . . miss you.”

"I miss you too," she said quietly. "As much as I do the rest of them.”

He held up the bottle in toast. “To the life we used to actually live.”

He took his swig and handed the bottle over. Nat lifted it in her own toast, but kept her thoughts to herself as she took her drink. They kept drinking, because that seemed the thing to do. Eventually the drinking turned to reminiscing, an awful mix of misery and fondness.

"I haven't seen her in person since they moved to California, but Steve told me Morgan Stark is talking." They had moved to the common room, which she used as a living room on the rear times she was away from work. They were sprawled on the couch, passing the almost empty bottle back and forth. "Apparently, she calls him Unca Teeb and all I could think of was when Lila was trying to say Natasha and go stuck on the first syllable so I was Nanana for a few years.”

Clint chuckled. “For a while we couldn’t tell if she was asking for you or for a banana.”

She laughed, even as a wave of grief spread over her. "Nate got my name right away.”

“It was probably the Russian in him.”

"Yeah," she said softly, embarrassed that her voice cracked on the word. She reached over and took the bottle back, tempted to just drain the fucker and hope it knocked her out. 

Clint’s voice was rough when he said, “Sometimes I’d look at him and all I’d see was you.”

She had to take a long pull of vodka before she could answer. "It was so hard to look at him. He was the only kid I was ever going to have. And he wasn't mine.”

He shuddered a sigh and clearly didn’t know what to say. He did wrap his arms around her and pull her closer. She sort of didn't want to go, but also really wanted him to hold her. So she let him pull her across the couch and settled onto his chest, pressed into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. He somehow smelled the same. And his arms were as hard and steady as they'd ever been. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her neck.

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have said it.”

“Keeping something in doesn’t make it stop being true.”

Wasn't that the story of her life with this man. He knew her better than anyone in the world, and she still had to hide a part of herself. Though she knew sometimes she hadn't hud it very well.

After a few moments of soaking in the comfort of being held, she no longer felt like crying and tried to get up. He didn't let go and she found herself braced on his chest only a few inches away,

She wasn't entirely sure which of them moved. Probably both of the, they'd always been good at that. But before she could formulate a reason not to, they were kissing. He held her face in his hands, holding her like she was precious.

They had kissed once before, right after Loki and the Battle of New York. A lot of vodka had been involved then, too. This was about the time they'd jumped apart and never spoken of it again. This time, she tilted her head and let the kiss take off, burying her fingers in his hair. He moved to wrap his arms around her, hands sliding up her back. One hand settled on the back of her neck, as if to hold her there. As if he was afraid she’d go.

Nat lost track of how long they kissed. Not only had attraction been simmering between them for over a decade, but it had been a long time since either of them had had any sort of prolonged touch. His hands roamed her slowly, over her clothes, touching nowhere entirely risqué. But she felt every touch and stroke like a brand, making her flushed and restless.

They broke to catch their breath, foreheads touching. “Anyone here?” he whispered.

She shook her head. "Just me and FRIDAY.”

Clint made a little noise of approval, and then he moved and suddenly she was on her back on the couch.

"Wh-" He cut her off with another kiss and the sound of surprise changed to a little purr of pleasure. She could feel one hand work under the hem of her shirt and she lifted her arms, looping them loosely around his neck.

He lifted his head a moment and looked down at her. “You ever want to just feel something good, for once?” 

"God, yes," she whispered, touching his jaw. He nodded, and between kisses he worked her shirt up and off. She did the same for him, though they had trouble getting it off his arms, probably because they were pretty drunk. Right now, she didn’t even care.

He looked just as good shirtless as she remembered, only now she could touch and appreciate it. She ran her hands over him, tracing every arc and line of muscle she could find. One of his big, callused hands cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple, and she gasped, letting him feel her nails in his back. Clearly enjoying the reaction, he pinched her nipple and rolled it a little between his fingers.

She was almost embarrassed at the little whimper that pulled from her. But it was Clint, of course he'd figured out what she liked within seconds of getting her shirt off. He tugged and tweaked her nippled, till they were hard and over sensitive and she was getting close to doing him harm. Then he bent and took one in his mouth and she felt like her insides were melting from the heat pouring through her.

He shifted, so he could unbutton her jeans and slide his hand inside. His fingers pressed over her clit in time with his mouth.

"Ah, fuck," she said, digging her hand in his hair. She wasn't particularly careful about it, but he didn't seem to notice, entire focus on her. She arched and closed her eyes, letting herself float in the twin pleasures of his mouth and hand. He was a man of endless patience and razor sharp attention, even drunk and with emotions running high.

It didn't take long for her start arching, pressing into his hand, hovering close to her breaking point. "Please, please.”

“I gotcha,” he murmured, his fingers inside her now and his thumb moving over her clit.

She realized he was watching her, changing his pace and pressure from little cues. He dropped little kisses on her breasts and throat and face, but when she opened her eyes, he was braced above her, watching her. It was intense, and intimate, and it sent her topping over the edge, body clenching and throbbing around his fingers. She clutched at him, raking little scratches along his arms.

Slowly he withdrew his hand, sliding wet fingers over her stomach and eventually idly cupping one breast.

Nat was panting like she'd run a mile, her body still thrumming with pleasure. "Clint," she murmured, tracing the tendons in his forearms idly.

He met her eyes. “Mmm?”

"More," she told him. “Please."

He had a slightly infuriating smirk. “That wasn’t enough?”

She scowled at him, which made the smirk even more infuriating. "You want me to spell it out? Fine. Get naked and fuck me.”

The smirk turned into a grin. “Yes, ma’am.” He kissed her again, and she got a little lost in it while his hand drifted back down her body. He grabbed the waistband of her jeans and tugged them down, though they were tight enough he didn’t get very far. She let go of him so she could help. They were drunk and uncoordinated and it took the two of them just to get them past her hips. They both laughed, and felt like it had been a long time for both of them.

Clint pushed up on his arm and glared at the denim, then muttered, “Fuck it.” He pushed off of her, sat up, and flipped her over onto her stomach. He got the jeans as far as her thighs and that was enough.

She got her knees under her and lifted up just as she heard his zipper. Then he was covering her, a big, warm wall at her back, and the hot press of his cock at her entrance. "Okay?" he murmured in her ear, voice gone deep and growly. She nodded, then he pressed forward, filling and stretching her with his first stroke. The air rushed out of her in a helpless little moan.

He groaned, pulling nearly all the way out and then pushing back in. They were long, slow strokes, and the way her legs were held together by the fabric made it deliciously tight. Nat got lost in it for a while, letting him set the pace. Multiple orgasms weren't often a thing for her, so she was content to just let him find his pleasure and enjoy the ride. But to her surprise, she felt that familiar tightness growing in her belly. She started to push back into him, so he bottomed out with every stroke, the fullness helping that tightness grow. She suddenly very much wanted to come again, with him inside her.

He had one hand cupping her breast, stroking and squeezing while he fucked her. He must have noticed her sudden urgency, because he let go to get his hand between her legs again. Her jeans bit into her thighs as she tried to open her legs more as he pressed her clit in small, quick circles.

The sound that came out of her was somewhere between a whimper and a scream. Heat and pleasure twisted in her belly, then released, spreading through her. She shook, arms and legs trembling with the effort to hold herself up. She could feel tight inner muscles pulse around him and her hips rocked helplessly with the same rhythm, trying to draw it out.

Her limbs gave as finally as she rode her bliss, and she sank down onto the couch. He didn’t break his rhythm, following her down. “Fuck,” he growled. It was harder and faster and rougher, his hands moving over her spine, one cupping the back of her neck like he was holding her there. “Fuck, fuck.” She lifted up to him and she felt his body jerk. His hand tightened on her neck and he pushed so deep inside her before she felt him shudder and come inside her.

He sank on to her, forehead pressed on the back of her head, panting breath steaming against her neck. Nat couldn't move, could barely think. It had been as good as she'd alway thought it would. Better. She closed her eyes and tried to memorize every little moment and sensation to keep with her always.

Clint slept in her bed that night. When she woke in the morning, he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He found Parker a ride down to New York, then approached one of the. . . wizards? Magicians? "Any of these portals go to Missouri?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, it gets happier in the next chapter.

Clint’s mission of vengeance didn’t make him feel any better, but he kept doing it anyway. Inertia kept you moving forward on your current path, unless something happened to change it.

Then Natasha showed up, holding out her hand with an offer to turn back time. He’d missed her and he loved working with her, and neither of them said anything about that one night. Even though he knew it must have hurt her that he vanished. They just pretended like it never happened, because there was a job to do.

Neither of them had imagined how high the cost would be.

Standing on the platform, holding that fucking stone, he couldn’t get the words out. Hopefully they’d figure it out, once they were done being distracted by the fact that Thor had brought a horse from Asgard.

“Clint?” Dr. Yee asked. “Where’s Nat?”

He couldn’t answer. But the mood changed, as each on of them noticed, and the room fell quiet. The silence was long and awful and heavy. No one moved. Eventually Clint couldn’t stand feeling their eyes on him. He looked to his left and met Steve’s gaze. He could see the pleading in the other man’s eyes— _please say something, anything else_. Clint handed him the soul stone and strode off the platform.

They followed him, of course, even when he went to stand out on the dock to get away from him. If God had any mercy they’d have sent Dr. Yee or Amanda or someone capable of keeping their shit together in a crisis. But no, Tony and Steve and Bruce and Thor all followed him, wanting him to explain.

That he didn’t take a swing at any of them while doing so was probably a miracle. Particularly Thor, who was convinced they could get her back. Maybe he’d turn out to be right, but Clint sure as hell wasn’t going to hope anymore.

After an argument over who would wear it, Bruce ended up with the glove on. They were rolling back time to 2018, something Clint was impressed Tony and Pepper agreed to. A lot of suffering would be averted, but risking the very existence of your only child wasn’t something anyone did lightly.

The snap was blinding, and when it receded he expected to be on his farm with his family, where he’d been when the dusting happened. Instead he was exactly where he had been, standing between Tony and Amanda Newbury, like nothing had happened.

For a moment he couldn’t breath. Natasha had died for _nothing_.

Then he looked at Thor standing across from him. Short hair, trimmed beard, fit. He was startlingly different. Immediately Clint looked down, to find his arm devoid of tattoos. Queries to FRIDAY indicated they were three weeks after the snap, but when the blast doors lifted, the building was full of people.

The next thing Clint new, he was under a pile of rubble with the glove.

One thing he'd say for fighting aliens, it was a lot easier to kill them than it was humans. Especially when they were weird dog things chasing him through the bowels of a bombed out building.

He managed to get comms to the others after a while, though the only advice anyone had for him on what to do with the damn glove was "don't let Thanos get it." And so once he was top side - which looked as much like the end of the world as everything else had the last five years - he was involved in the most high stakes game of keep away in anybody's existence. 

At one point he was sure he was about to get overwhelmed, despite his best efforts, when T'Challa saved his ass and took the glove off his hand. Son of a bitch even remembered his name.

He missed most of the real action after that, because he found himself a place to shoot from cover. He hadn’t used a bow & arrow since the day Lila vanished in the middle of learning how to shoot, but muscle memory was long. And then suddenly the enemies disintegrated into dust.

Most of the next half hour passed in a blur. Someone grabbed him to join the chain of people that dispersed the glove's power and saved Tony's life. He got a front seat view of a battlefield amputation that he could have lived his whole life without. At some point, Doc Newbury put him in charge of SpiderKid and he let him use his phone to call his aunt. The battle was over, the war was won. All that was left was to get home to his family.

He found Parker a ride down to New York, then approached one of the. . . wizards? Magicians? "Any of these portals go to Missouri?”

The guy looked him up and down, and said, “Sure.” How he knew the specifics beyond the state Clint didn’t want to know, but there was a ring of gold light, and then he was on the grass in front of his house.

As he stared at it, the door opened and Laura came out onto the porch. “Hey,” she called, smiling at him. “I didn’t hear the jet.” He couldn’t even move, afraid this wasn’t real. She came down the steps, frowning at him now. “You look like you were in a fight. Did Thanos come back?” She looked around when he didn’t reply. “Where’s Nat?” 

That's when the dam broke. The one he'd managed to keep at bay since he'd seen her body at the bottom of the cliff. Tears spilled over and he reached out, clumsy for the first time in his life, pulling Laura to him.

“Oh, God,” she said, her voice cracking, and he knew he wouldn’t have to say it. The both cried into each other’s shoulders, until Laura pulled back. She sniffled and wiped at her nose and her eyes, taking a shuddery breath. “Nate’s napping. The bus will drop Lila and Cooper off soon. We should. . .uh. . .” She put her hand over her mouth a moment. “What are we going to tell them?”

"I don't know," he admitted. "We can think about it a day or two."

Laura shook her head. "They're going to notice she didn't come home. Where did you guys go?”

He found that an odd thing to say, considering Nat hadn’t been to the farm in years by that point, not since after she and Steve broke everyone out of the RAFT. Of course, there was three weeks missing in his memory. Who knows what happened then. “I take it you haven’t seen the news. Thanos blew up the Avengers HQ in New York.”

She covered her mouth with a hand. "Oh my God. I was in the den writing all morning I haven't- Is everyone else okay?”

“Mostly. Tony and Steve were medvac-ed out, but I think they’re stable.” He sighed. “Can we go inside? There’s so much more to the story than I want to explain on the lawn."

"Of course, of course." She tucked her hands around his arm as they walked up to the house. 

Stepping inside was another blow. It was all the same. Cooper's pile of sports equipment on the bench by the door, Lila's riding boots. The playroom was its usual chaos, and stacks of Laura's research lined the island counter.

What wasn't the same was the pictures. Laura whipped out her phone or digital camera at every opportunity and most of their shelves and tables had little collections of frames of the kids or them. As he looked around at all the shots he hadn't seen in five years, he noticed the Nat was in far more of them than he remembered. Here she was at Christmas. Holding baby Nate in the hospital. Her, Laura, and Lila in PJs and green face masks, making silly faces. He and Nat lounging together on the couch in front of the fire, looking almost unaware their picture was being taken.

It was an intimate sort of picture, and it seemed a little odd choice for Laura to hang up. He wished he remembered it being taken.

Something was off here, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe his memory was just faulty.

Laura put her hand on his back and rubbed gently. “I’m going to need to make arrangements.”

He looked at her. “Arrangements?”

“For Nat’s funeral,” she said quietly. “Is there. . ?” she trailed off like she couldn’t figure out what to say. She was asking if there was a body. This woman who had literally been the the Body Farm to look at the corpses, and she couldn’t get the words out.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She died on another planet, there’s no way. . . No.”

"Another _planet_?" She shook her head and tears welled up again but she took a deep breath and seemed to fight them down. "It sounds like you have a story to tell me.”

They sat on the couch. She apparently known about Thanos, from her question when he arrived. They’d pieced together that the stones had taken them to 3 weeks after the original battle, but the Snap had not happened. He must have told her then. “So Thanos wanted to destroy half the universe, using a glove full of magic stones. He succeeded, and half of all life crumbled to dust. Including you and the kids. We lived another 5 years, built a time machine so we could have our own glove, to fix things. Nat died as part of that quest. Bruce used that to rewind time, which is where we are now, though it seems to have missed the target by a few weeks. I have a gap in my memory. Thanos re-appeared and we had a huge battle—it’ll be all over the news. Tony put the glove on and dusted Thanos and his army, which is why he’s in the hospital and I am still alive."

She reached over and covered his hand with hers. "That sounds awful." He wondered sometimes if it was easier for her to follow these crazy sort of stories because she had an author's brain. "At least you and Nat had each other? During the five years, you both must have been hurting.”

He rubbed his eyes. “It was. . . we were both miserable and not in the mood for each other’s company. There were a lot of things she and I never talked about that we should have.” He paused not sure if he should go one. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I feel like I should. There was one night, just the one. But you had been gone literally for years. Felt guilty about it all the same.”

She didn't answer right away and after a few heartbeats he risked looking at her, only to find her staring at him with a mix of concern and bafflement. "Clint. . ." she finally said slowly. "You and Nat have been having nights together for years. Why would I mind if you-“

“ _What_?” he interrupted, too flabbergasted to let her finish her sentence.

Laura paused and her mouth crinkled up like it did sometimes when she was sorting out a tough plot point. "Okay," she said finally. "You said there was some messing around with time and reality going on while you were fixing what Thanos did?" He nodded slowly. "I'm starting to think that yours and my timeline are. . . different somehow. Beyond the three weeks. Because we _clearly_ don't remember our relationship with Nat the same.”

Clint felt a lump in his throat he tried to swallow. “What do you remember?"

"Um." She paused a moment. "You brought her home after a mission when I was pregnant with Lila. She visited a lot after that. After Loki and the Battle of New York she was here a couple months helping out while you recovered. A little over a year later Tony announced he was having a kid and we decided to let the team know about me and the kids, so he could have a 'dad friend' to ask questions. The kids and I went out to New York and a lot of people mentioned they thought you and Nat were a couple. I'd never noticed that particular vibe until it was pointed out to me."

He was too stunned to say anything, so she squeezed his hand and continued. "That Christmas Nat and I had a very honest conversation while drunk. I told her I'd noticed and admitted that she was such a part of the family I didn't think I'd mind if something did happen between you. Nothing came of it until after SHIELD fell. Nat came here after testifying at the hearings and said almost dying - several times - brought into focus things she wanted and regretted in life. That's when she and I talked to you about it. A few nights later you joined her in her room overnight. And you spent a few nights a week with her ever since, at least when she was here.”

Clint tried to parse all of that, and the first thing he managed to say was, “Tony had his kid in the future, after the snap.”

“Morgan? She was born in 2013. I’ve held her as a baby, she’s been to this house.”

“And you let Nat and I sleep together?”

Something in his tone made her smile. "Yeah. Yeah I do. Sometimes I eavesdrop and we have amazing sex the next day.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes. After a moment, he said. “Now she’s gone and I don’t remember any of it.”

"I'm so sorry, honey," Laura said, standing to come around the table ad wrap him in a hug. "I'm so sorry.”

“That’s why you said the kids would notice,” he said. “Because she was here a lot.”

"Yeah. She's been like a third parent these last few years." She paused. "In yours. . . She gave me eggs, so we could have Nate. Is that the same?”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I learned later it ended being hard for her, and part of why she stayed away. Because he looked like her child, but wasn’t.”

"God," Laura murmured, rubbing his back. He could tell by her tone that was not remotely what it was like for her, but she didn't elaborate, clearly not wanting to add salt to the wound.

He found out soon enough, when Nate woke from his nap, excited to see Daddy and demanding to know where Mamuska was.

Instead of the vaguely awkward subtext-laced unspoken situation that went on for years in his memory. In this version of events, they seemed to be raising the children together as a family. It felt particularly cruel, that the world had been rearranged this way, when she wasn’t here to see it.

He didn’t think anything could make losing her hurt worse, but he was so wrong.

It was bittersweet, to have the rest of them back and not her. Laura clearly didn't know what to say or how to help him, other than to be there when he needed her and to give him space when he didn't. He tore the up the floor of the bathroom Nat had always used, retiling it so it would look different when he walked past it.  
He didn't even open the door to the room she'd usually used.

Some of the team kept him posted. Tony moved out of the ICU. Steve was apparently dating a woman none of them - not even Laura - had known about it. They were rebuilding the time machine, so they could return the stones back where they belonged. He didn't care, other than to be glad that damn stone that had cost Nat her life wouldn't be on the same planet as him anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She'd really thought coming back from the dead would be the most surprising thing to happen to her today. But now. This._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to not be productive. Olives and I are churning stuff out because A) it was done before corona virus got serious and B) writing is what we do to combat boredom and stress. You are not required to get in shape or learn a new skill. If all you're up for is 12 hours a day of fan fic and funny cat videos that's okay. Someday we'll be on the other side of this and all you're required to do it get there. Okay? Okay. Love you. Have a cookie, your bedtime is never.

Natasha didn’t know how long she floated in the gold light. It was a long time, or maybe it wasn’t. Wherever she was—by the nothingness, she’d guess purgatory—there was no way of measuring time. She was there until suddenly she wasn’t.

Instead, she was back on Vormir, being held by Thor in a bridal carry. He looked as surprised to see her as she did him. “Hello, Natasha,” he said as he set her down.

The last thing she remembered was letting go of Clint and falling. “What-? How?” She didn’t know how she was here, but she could see he looked like his old self. Did that mean it worked?

"We threw the stone back, and apparently it returned you.” Nat hadn’t realized Valkyrie was also there until she spoke.

"You did it," Nat said to Thor. "Time reversed. I can tell by looking at you.”

"We did. Thanos and his army is gone and all the people who were snapped returned. And now that you're back, I can say no one died in the attempt.”

She looked looked down at her wrists. "My device is gone.”

"We have a spare," Valkyrie said, fishing it out. "There was a lot of paranoia.”

"Ready to go home?" Thor asked. "We're done. And I know a lot of people will be happy to see you."

It didn't seem real. But she managed to nod and hold her hand out for her to attach the new wrist band. They hit their devices in unison and a moment later she was standing on a platform, outside on a bright sunny day. 

For a moment, everyone looked stunned at her appearance, then Thor turned to Bruce, who was manning the controls and said. "I told you! Space. Magic.”

Nat turned her head to look at Bruce, who looked like his regular self and was not all Hulked anymore. Across from her was Amanda Newbury hanging on Barnes’s arm to catch her balance. Amanda let go and came across the platform to hug Nat. Nat didn’t know Doc hugged people.

"It's really good to see you," she said quietly, before stepping back and holding her at arm's length. "How do you feel? Do you need an exam?"

Nat took a deep breath of fresh, cool air. She could smell sweat and damp fabric and the flowers growing along the edge of the lake. Smiling, she said honestly, "I've never felt better.”

Barnes hugged her, too, as did Scott Lang, who was on the platform as well. He introduced her to his girlfriend, Hope. Nat made a note that at some point in a more private location, she’d tell this woman he wanted her back bad enough to pick a fight with Tony Stark.

“Nat!” Rhodey came bounding up onto the platform. He didn’t have a suit on. In fact he didn’t have anything but normal clothes on. He hugged her and lifted her off her feet and she asked, “Where are your braces?”

“Fuck if I know. Tony had the glove and went on a wishing spree.”

Well, you give Tony unlimited power and he would certainly- "Wait. Tony wore the glove?" She looked around frantically. "Where is he, what happened?"

"He's in the hospital, burned to all hell and missing part of his arm," Amanda told her. "But otherwise, same old Tony. As for what happened, it's a long story. Which we can tell you on the way back to the city.”

She took a breath and asked, “Did we lose anyone?”

“Nope,” he replied.

Behind them, Thor called, “Space Magic!”

They got her a change of clothes and some food before they headed down to New York to see Tony and Steve. Thor promised to stick around long enough to take her out to Clint's farm once she was done. She wanted to see him as soon as possible, but she knew he wouldn't really believe she was back if he couldn't touch her.

She told Tony, when she saw him, she was going to the farm to retire and raise bee assassins. It was a flip, off the cuff answer, but she knew as soon as she said it, that it was true. She didn't know where she stood with Clint and Laura. Maybe he'd told her about their night together. Maybe he was furious that she'd sacrificed herself. Maybe they couldn't handle each other 24/7 and they'd have to build her a sad little in-law unit on the back 40. She didn't care. She was done. She'd died for the cause and decided she'd earned the chance to sit under her own vine and fig tree.

“Me too,” he replied. “I still don’t know how I’m alive, or how I managed to conjure my daughter here. The universe and I are square. Time to go home.” He paused. “You too. Go buy a ridiculous beekeeper hat. Please send pictures if you ever get it on Barton.”

"I promise," she said, leaning down to hug him again. "I look forward to pictures of your eventual very subtle red and gold cyborg arm.”

“Neither of us expected to get to live in the world we saved. Might as well enjoy it.”

Some of the team was staying at a townhouse Tony apparently had in New York. Steve cried when he saw her, and hugged her for a long time. He’d found Sharon again, and that made Nat happy. Happy enough she gave the other woman a hug once Steve released her. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Same," Sharon said, smiling. "Welcome back."

"Thanks." She looked over at Steve. "I heard there's a lot of retiring going around.”

He nodded. “I’ve been put on medical discharge.”

That was probably the only way to get Steve to actually put down the shield. "I need to go see Clint and the farm. But I promise to come back so we can sit on your porch and wave out canes at the youngins.”

“I’m going be in Paris for a while, but you’re welcome to come visit.”

"Paris?" she said, smiling. She looked over at Sharon. "You're good for him."

“Time to start a new life, right?” Steve said.

The was something about his tone that made her think he was trying to convince himself more than her. She was in no place to help him with that, but she trusted Sharon to have his back. 

Nat had more tearful reunions, both with people who’d missed her, and people, like Sam and Wanda, that she hadn’t seen in 5 years. She even took a detour unto the labs in the house’s basement where Tony had a holo-comm system set up, so she could see some of her far flung friends. Rocket and Nebula both insisted they personally didn’t care, but the other one wanted to see she was okay. One of the other crewmembers, whose name escaped her but was always painfully honest, came into view to inform her they’d held a funeral for her in space. “It was very moving. Rocket cried.”

“I didn’t fucking cry, you asshole. My eyes are just very sensitive.”

"Yes, to emotions."

"I'm flattered," Nat said, attempting to cut off whatever knife fight was about to break out. "Never thought I'd get a space funeral."

Carol was delighted to see her, though she didn't personally remember the five years working together, she'd be caught up by the others. She was busy doing explaining and clean up to various worlds but promised to swing by earth as soon as she could so they could get a drink together.

“You ready to go home?” Thor asked Nat.

She didn't remember the last time she felt this nervous, but she nodded. “Please."

“Out back,” he said. “The bifrost will damage the building otherwise.”

They went out to the back yard and he wrapped an arm around her to tuck her up against him before lifting his battle axe.

The Bifrost was fast, brightly colored, and probably would have had a really long line if it were a ride at Disney World. They landed on the dirt road in front of the farm and for a moment, it was hard to breathe around the knot in her chest. She hadn't been here since right after the snap, when it had been empty and at least partially looted. Now it looked like it always had. Homey and cluttered and . . . home.  
"Thank you for the ride," she said, giving Thor one more hug.

He kissed the top of her head and said, “Tell him I said ‘I told you so’.”

"I promise." She stepped away, heading for the house as she heard him leave. She was approaching the house when Cooper came around the side of it. He stopped dead, and dropped the bucket he was carrying. “Auntie Nat?”

"Hey, Coop," she said softly, putting a foot up on the step. "I'm back.”

“Mom! Dad!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, then he ran towards her, crashing into her with such force he nearly knocked her down.

Nat squeaked, wrapping her arms around him. Cooper had grown too cool to hug her when Nate was still an infant. Now he felt shockingly adult as he held her, burying his face in her hair. Clint and Laura and Lila had come out onto the porch at Cooper’s yelling. Lila shrieked and launched herself down the stairs and into the hug.

She hugged both of them a long time, kissing Lila's hair as she seemed determined to burrow into her body, Then she looked over head head to meet Clint's eyes. "Thor said to tell you 'I told you so.’"

He seemed frozen in surprise or disbelief, and was choked up when he spoke. “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”

When he still hadn’t moved, Laura nudged him aside and came down to join the hug. “I don’t know how this happened, but there are some things we need to explain.”

Nat was confused, but nodded, disentangling from the kids so she could wrap her arms around Laura."I have no other plans for the day.”

The screen door banged open again. “MAMUSHKA!”

“Like that,” Laura said.

Nate came barreling out towards them, nearly tripping on the stairs. Nat picked him up on instinct, and he hugged her, excitedly chattering in Russian about how he knew she would come back because she always came back.

Blood roared in her ears and she pressed her face into Nate's hair, inhaling a deep breath of his scent. She had absolutely no idea why he was calling her Mommy, or spoke fluent Russian. But for a strange, awful moment, she wondered if maybe she hadn't really come back to life and this, somehow, was heaven.

When she lifted her head, Clint had finally come down the steps to join them. She shifted Nate to her hip and looked up at him. He grinned at her a moment, eyes as wet as everyone else’s searching her face. “We’ll explain this, too,” he said, and then he bent his head and kissed her.

Shocked, instinct took over and she kissed him back, free arm tucking around his waist. He put and arm under hers, helping her hold up Nate. After a minute, the toddler fussed and pushed at her shoulder and she had to break the kiss to put him down. Then she looked back up at Clint and asked, very quietly, "Is this real?”

He chuckled. “Far as I know.”

“Come on, come on, everybody back inside,” Laura said. “Come tell us how you’re alive, and we’ll tell you how the world changed.”

“I’m staying out here if there’s going to be more kissing,” Cooper muttered.

Clint gave him an affectionate cuff on the back of the head as they headed into the house.

Laura got busy making tea - they had Nat's favorite brand of oolong - and digging up a snack since she admitted she hadn't eaten much since coming back. Lila pulled her to one end to show her pictures from her school talent show - apparently, she knew ballet. She could also speak decent Russian, and had a Russian accent when she used some of the more advanced ballet terms.

Finally Clint shooed the kids off to play or do chores and she sat at the kitchen table with him and Laura, utterly flummoxed.

“I’m trying to think of the most straightforward way to explain this,” Clint said. “We seem to have altered the timeline, when we rolled everything back. I talked to some of the team and the theory seems to be that when Tony had the glove his wishes or commands or whatever were very vague, and the stones changed things to try and accommodate that. Morgan was born sooner, which let to me outing the family sooner and bringing them to New York when everyone lived in the tower. Laura noticed we were clearly attracted to each other, and we worked out a thing where we, well. . .”

“We share him,” Laura said. “You and I. It was a little. . .mormon, in the beginning, but we’ve long merged into a kind of unit. We function together and parent together. Nate is biologically yours, I carried him, and we consider him ours.”

Nat looked from one to the other for a moment, hands curled around her tea mug to warm them. "So the three of us are like. . . a couple?" She looked at Laura. "Do you and i-?”

“No.” She shook her head, and then looked around as if to make sure the kids were out of earshot. “I do sometimes enjoy listening to you guys—I can hear it through the bathroom wall. We have had a long running debate over whether watching in some manner would be fun or awkward, but haven’t gotten beyond idle chatting.”

The first thing she thought of, which ended up coming out of her mouth, "It's probably be better to start with videos and see how you feel."

Laura grinned. "That's usually what you suggest.”

“I think we might be too famous to risk making a sex tape,” Clint said.

Without missing a beat, Laura replied, “That usually what you say.”

Still trying to process, Nat sipped her tea and picked a few M&Ms and pretzels out of the trail mix bowl in front of her. Finally, she looked over at Clint, "Do you remember this? Or do you remember what I do?”

“I remember exactly one drunken encounter on the couch at the compound, and a lot of distance and things unsaid.”

So, her memories, then. She looked down into he tea, trying to sort out what she was thinking and feeling. She'd really thought coming back from the dead would be the most surprising thing to happen to her today. But now. This.

She thought about Nate's warm little body propped on her hip, and the pictures of her and Lila on the wall in matching tutus, and the way Cooper had hugged her like she was family and not some guest that visited twice a year. And she thought about Clint kissing her on the front porch and a debate about voyeurism she didn't remember. And for the first time since she could remember, possibly for the first time in her life, she felt something knotted and tense and miserable inside her. . . settle.

Looking up, she met Clint's gaze. He was watching her with concern and she wondered how miserable the last month must have been, to know all this and have her dead and unable to share it with.

"I love you," she said finally. "I want to learn how to raise bees.”

The swapped stories for a while, Laura trying to catch her up with everything she’d missed. Eventually Clint got paper and started sketching out the beehives, which he was clearly going to enjoy building. 

“I’m going to get dinner on,” Laura said. “You look exhausted, you want to go up and have a shower and a nap or something?”

"A shower would be great," she said, standing slowly. "Same room?" Laura nodded. Clint hadn't looked up from he planning, so Nat made her way upstairs, looking at the row of pictures that lined the wall. There was one very sweet one of her, in a full forward split, bent forward in a stretch so her chest touched the floor. An infant Nate was having tummy time on a blanket in front of her, so they were almost nose to nose.

Her room was where she expected it to be, though it was far more decorated than it had ever been in her memory. That, as much as anything else, confirmed what they'd told her. This was a room someone lived in, not a guest room.

She went to the dresser and peered at the clutter there. A clay lump with a baby footprint, a sloppily painted bowl with a pile of jewelry spilling out of it. She sifted through it, finding things familiar and not. Her arrow necklace was there, which she'd been sure had been lost in the chaos. Pinned to the edge of the mirror above the dresser was a child's drawing of three adults holding hands with three little kids. It was signed "Lila B" in the corner. Nat wondered if they'd had to explain that to a kindergarten teacher.

Opening drawers, she found familiar clothes and a lot of new ones. Apparently someone had talked her into a small collection of plaid shirts, which made her laugh a little. In the bottom drawer she found a collections of tights, leggings, leotards, and a pair of toe shoes, laced and broken in exactly how she liked it. She hadn't danced in years, well before Thanos and the snap and all that mess. Before Ultron. Before she'd started the medication to let them extract the eggs for Laura's pregnancy. Now, here, clearly she did it regularly. And had taught Lila. She'd bet real money there was a floor in this house that would bounce under her toes, like a proper dance studio.

Satisfied with her brief tour, she pulled out a plaid shirt and soft flannel pants and made her way across the hall, looking forward to a hot shower in her warm, cheery yellow bathroom.

And stopped at the door at the room full of white and black tile and chrome fittings. "Clint," she yelled in the direction of the stairs. "Why does my bathroom look like an Apple store?!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Honestly? I'm still not 100% sure I'm not dead and this is the afterlife. Which is weird because heaven is not where I thought I'd end up.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine day 31 (Olives): My 5 year old is on Zoom right now with a friend, both of them using Buzz Lightyear toys to make noise back and forth, over and over. I've heard "To Infinity and Beyond" approx 700 times. It's fine. This is fine.
> 
> Also, smut in both stories this week was a coincidence, but hey, enjoy!

Laura had let Clint disassemble Nat’s bathroom as part of his grieving. Nat had picked the tile and the fixtures on her first trip to the farm. She was still recovering from the Red Room and enamored by the idea that she could choose something for herself. She helped him lay the tile, install the counter and paint the walls. She’d ordered a _ridiculously_ expensive vintage reproduction light from San Francisco, and had convinced him to save and refinish the very beat up cast iron clawfoot tub that was original the the house. It had once been the house’s only bathroom.

What had started with the floors ended up taking the room down to the studs. Everything in it was new, and it didn’t go with the house at all. In fact, it looked like the kind of bathrooms they had at Stark Tower. It was as un-Natasha as possible, but it had been a fools errand. In the end whenever he looked at it all he could think about was how she’d hate it.

Two things from the old bathroom had been saved. Laura rescued the lamp and put it somewhere, because it had cost so much, and the tub was in the barn because it weighed 250lbs and that was as far as he and Cooper could get it.

"I actually don't hate the shower," she admitted her second day home. They were driving back from town, having gotten lumber and a stack of books about beekeeping. "Multiple shower heads have their place. But I miss my soaking tub.”

“I can put the tub back in, it’s in the barn. I’m just going to need help getting it back upstairs. That’s going to take more muscle than down.” He looked at her. “And Laura saved that light fixture.”

"I love that light," she said immediately. "And I'm sure I can convince one of our superpowered friends to help move the tub. Worst case, Carol promised to visit next time she's planet side.”

“It all reminded me of you,” he said with a sigh. “I was at loose ends.”

"You like to do demo when you're upset. Clearly that's the same." She looked over at him. "This is all a huge mind fuck, right? That's not just me?"

“This is Loki-level mindfuck. It’s just happy.”

"Yeah." She watched the scenery a minute. "It all feels really, really. . . perfect. Makes me not want to trust it.”

“You think it’s somebody fucking with your head?”

"Honestly? I'm still not 100% sure I'm not dead and this is the afterlife. Which is weird because heaven is not where I thought I'd end up.”

“If throwing yourself off a cliff to save the universe doesn’t get you into heaven, Nat. . .” He shook his head. “Your ledger is all black now.”

She inclined her head in a way that meant she was conceding the point. And it was the tilt that really meant she was agreeing and not just paying lip service so the conversation would end. He could tell. "I was thinking," she said slowly, still looking out the window. "That I'm ready for you to. . . take a turn in my room?”

He turned to stare at her, so long the car drifted and he had to swerve back into his lane. “I. . .I could do that.”

"Only if you want to.”

He shook his head. “Yes I want too; I almost crashed the car.”

"If you crash the car, you won't get to," she teased, earning her an exasperated look. She was smiling now, so at least a little bit of the awkward was gone. "I enjoyed it," she added. "That other time."

“Me too,” he said. Suddenly it was all he could think about. They way she felt, the sounds she made. “But I think it will be more fun with our heads screwed on straight this time.”

"And sober," she agreed.

He grinned at her, and then he stepped on the gas.

At home they had things to do. She helped Laura with the kids and starting supper, and Clint unloaded all the lumber and started prepping for his new project. After dinner it was time to herd the kids into showers and the last of their homework. Nate insisted Mamushka do bedtime, as he had every night since she got home. She carried him upstairs, singing at Russian lullaby, looking just about as content as he'd ever seen her.

When Laura came downstairs from tucking Lila in, Clint was on the couch, and tipped his head back to catch her eye. “So is there, like, a protocol to where I sleep on what days?”

"Yes," she said solemnly. "There's an excel spreadsheet. If you slip up even a little bit you go to the barn for a night.”

He rolled his eyes. “Funny.”

She smiled and leaned over to kiss his forehead. "If Nat or I have a specific request, we put it in. Otherwise you seem to decide on your whims. At first you definitely defaulted to me, but to be honest, Nat seems to like sleeping next to you and sometimes I like my solitude, so you went to her more often recently." She smiled. "Is she warmed up to the idea?”

“I was. . .invited, this evening. But this is still a little wild for me so I feel compelled to check with you.”

"I know." She rubbed his arm. "Go. Have fun. Don't be surprised if I jump you in the morning.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Thanks for the warning.”

She gave him another pat and headed towards her office. Clint sat on the couch a moment more, then heard Nate's door open and figured he should go upstairs before Nat psyched herself out.

Nat was in the hallway when he got to the top of the stairs. “Hi,” he said.

"Hi." After a moment of hesitation, she stepped over to him and tucked into his chest, arms sliding around his waist. 

He rested his forehead on hers. “Bedtime?”

"Yeah." She rubbed his back lightly. "I'm nervous. It's stupid, but I am.”

“It’s not stupid.” He pulled her into her room. “This is very new. There’s going to be a lot of weird. I asked Laura if it was okay, which she clearly found amusing.”

Nat shut the door behind them. "It's nice she's being so blasé about all this. It makes it easier." Her room was cozy and decorated, with kids drawings pinned up and art on the walls. A lot like her room at the New York compound. "Strange to think such a small thing could have changed the three of us so much."

Clint sat on her bed. “Apparently, it was the thing we needed.”

"Apparently." She paused by her dresser to take off her necklace and the ring she'd started wearing that had Nate's birth stone in it. Then she joined him on the bed. She rested her head on his shoulder and curled a hand around his. This, at least, felt oddly familiar. "I do want this. I don't want it to be awkward. It just feels. . . big.”

“We could just sleep, tonight. If you wanted to.”

She considered that a moment, thumb running along his knuckles, back and forth. "Maybe we start with kissing. And see where we end up?”

He nodded a little, then he reached to turn her face up so he could kiss her. He could feel some of the tension leave her as she kissed him back. After a moment she shifted to face him, knees bumping his. He held her face in his hands, letting it go on as long—and as slowly—as she liked. Twice they’d kissed in stress and high emotion. This was entirely different, and he saw no reason to rush.

Gently, like teenagers making out, they drifted together down to the bed.

One of her hands worked under his shirt and he could feel her fingers trailing along the muscles on his back. Her hand was small and soft and cooler than his skin and the touch made him shudder a little. He lifted his head and smiled down at her. She tugged on his shirt and he sat up enough to let her pull it off. He reached for hers. “Can I. . .?

She nodded, then sat up a little so he could tug it up and off. She wasn't wearing anything under it, so he had immediate access to her bare skin.

"I love your hands," she murmured as he started to touch her.

“Not too rough?” he asked, cupping her breast in one of them. Though, Laura had told him the exact same thing. Two women now, so it must be true.

Sure enough, she said, "Rough is good." Her nipple tightened and peaked under his thumb and she sighed softly, shivering.

“I recall you liking this,” he said, repeating the motion. “That night.”

"Mmm." She arched into the touch. "Very much."

He bent to kiss her skin. “My memory is fuzzy, but I remember that.”

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she let him explore. Memories of that night—fuzzy though they were—gave him a good base to figure out what she liked. So when he finally took her nipple in his mouth, he made sure she felt a scrape of teeth as he sucked. Sure enough, her hands tightened on his hair and she gasped, arching beneath him. He wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t in any rush, so he took his time. He wanted to map every inch of her skin. One breast, then the other, then slowly downward.

He nuzzled at her belly, making a point to kiss the scar on her hip, before sliding his fingers into the waistband of her flannels. He paused, glancing up to silently ask permission. In response, she lifted her butt off the mattress so he could slide them down. She had no underwear on, either. “This is downright delightful,” he told her. He suddenly recalled the fight with her jeans the last time, and chuckled. “And much easier.”

She laughed, clearly remembering as well. "You worked around it admirably.”

He nudged her legs apart, turning to kiss the inside of her thigh. “I remember."

Her leg quivered, and he heard her sigh a little. "This is new.”

He kissed higher. “Well, we were drunk.”

"No head when drunk?" she teased, as he could feel her nails lightly scraping his scalp.

Slowly he stroked his fingers over her sex. “You with your senses impaired could mean an accidental cracked skull.”

"My thighs are classified as a deadly-oh!" He pushed a little firmer, circling her clit and she gasped, hips bucking a little. Grinning, he bent down to taste her. She moaned, long and low, deep in her throat. It was a supremely sexy noise.

This was so much better than something drunk and rushed and emotionally fraught. He could take his time, slide his fingers inside her and trace patterns on her clit with his tongue. Her fingers in his hair tightened so much it actually hurt, which he took as a compliment. 

He listened to her breathing change as he worked on her. He could tell she was getting close when one heel started to dig into his side and her gasps had turned to whimpers. Then she was shaking, inner muscles clenching around his fingers.

He lifted his head and looked up at her, stroking her leg with his hand as she calmed. Right now she looked as unguarded as he’d ever seen her. Except for perhaps the way she’d looked at him when she ask him to let go, and let her fall.

After a few minutes of catching her breath, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him, rubbing his side affectionately with her foot. He climbed back up the bed, and told her, “I really missed you.”

She stroked a hand along his jaw. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

He kissed her mouth. “I’d tell you not to apologize, but you did throw yourself off a cliff.”

"It seemed the right thing to do. At the time.”

“Mmm. We’re gonna discuss that later.” Then he kissed her again, because he really didn’t want to discuss it now. Even if he had brought it up. She seemed amenable to tabling the discussion, holding his face as he kissed her. Her legs shifted so he was cradled between them.

Tucking an arm under her, he rolled them over and pulled her on top of him. “I am, however, going to make you do all the work."

"Rude," she told him before lifting up on her knees to undo his fly and start working his pants down. This, too, was a lot easier sober and coordinated. She tossed them on the floor somewhere behind her and climbed back up his body, leaning in to kiss him as she settled the head of his cock at her slick entrance. She kept the kiss going even as she slid down his length, burying him deep.

He slid his hands up the outside of her thighs, around to cup her ass and hold her there a moment. Then he tugged on her to get her to move. She straightened, lifting up and sinking back down with infinite slowness. It looked smooth and easy despite the strength he knew that required. Nat had immense control over her body, and he hadn’t fathomed how fucking hot watching her would be.

She sat up straight, putting on a little bit of a show as she rode him. He could tell from her smile she was enjoying teasing him a bit, tossing her hair back and watching his face and she shifted her angle, stroking him deeper.

He touched what he could reach, and she leaned forward enough to give him better access. The slowness was getting to be more than he could take, and he tugged on her hip. “Come on, damn it.” He got her Cheshire Cat grin in reply.

After an endless few minutes of torture, she seemed to relent, quickening her pace. She bent her head to kiss him and he could taste desperation in it. He held her hip, tugging roughly in an effort to get deeper. He felt her reach behind him, gripping the headboard for more leverage. He slid his hand over and pressed his thumb against her clit. Her body jerked and she almost lost her rhythm, making a noise in the back of her throat. Pleased, he repeated it and didn’t stop. She tightened around him a little more every time he filled her, and he began to lift up to meet her. 

Finally, it seemed enough for her and she shuddered, thrust down completely and gripping him, murmuring his name as the climax rocked her. He held her still, right where she was, letting the feel of her clenching on him pull him right over the edge.

After riding it out, he flopped back on the bed, taking her with him. She giggled a little when they hit the covers, nuzzling his neck.

He rubbed her back, and turned his head towards her. “Hey.”

"Hi there," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“I really like this timeline,” he told her.

"This is definitely the best timeline.”

“And it’s only, like. . .” He raised his arm to look at his watch, which he was still wearing. “Eight-thirty.”

"We could nap and have a second round."

“That sounds like an excellent idea. You are the most flexible person I know and that interests me.”

She grinned and wiggled on him deliberately. "I'm always willing to show off.”

He chuckled, and for a bit they seemed perfectly content to just lay there like that. Eventually he said, “So I’ve been thinking. . .”

"No thinking in the sex bed.”

“Hush. I was thinking I dislike your bathroom being across the hall and I don’t know why the other me didn’t do something about it.”

"Oh, it sounds like you're planning a big project and Laura's gonna blame me.”

“That’s probably why other me didn’t do it.”

She paused, mouth scrunched up. "Also, other you didn't rip up the room and turn it into an Apple Store so other me probably didn't want you to touch her light and tub that she loved so much.”

Clint sighed. “I did that to the bathroom so it would stop making me think of you every time one of the kids left the door open.”

"I know." She rubbed his shoulder. "Where were you planning to move it?”

“Laura said we’d been talking about refinishing the attic, and letting Cooper move up there. Nate’s bedroom is basically a closet, we could move him into Cooper’s old room, and turn Nate’s room into a bathroom.”

"Okay, that's less disruptive than I thought it would be. And Coop would be thrilled.”

“It would make the most sense to put the bathroom here and move the wall, because of the plumbing. . . but moving a plaster wall is terrible, and I think Laura will kill me if I remove the sound effects.”

"Alternately, could you enlarge your bathroom somehow and we could share it?”

“I wouldn’t want to cut off someone’s ability to brush their teeth because one of us was in the mood for shower sex.”

"That's a fair point. I like where you're head's at.”

He closed his eyes and smiled. “You know, this is as content as I’ve been in years.”

"Me too." She shifted off him, tucking herself at his side. "Still not entirely sure this isn't heaven. But I'm starting to think I don't care.”

They dozed for a while, and the house was quiet when they woke again. They entertained themselves experimenting with Nat’s flexibility before passing out again. In the morning she kissed him and told him she was going to go shower in the Apple Store, which took his sleep-fuzzed brain a minute to parse.

“I can’t tell you how much I would like to join you,” he commented. “But the kids use that bathroom.” He paused. “Hence,” he said, gesturing at the wall where he hoped there would one day be a door to her own bathroom.

She kissed him tenderly, climbing out of bed. "Get Laura's permission before you start opening walls.”

“I always do.” He watched her go, and decided to go shower himself once she was done, so he could get on his morning chores. Nobody slept in on a farm; that the sun was mostly up was as close as they were going to get. The kids were old enough now to be truly useful, which meant everything got done faster, which meant everybody got to sleep in.

He had saved the world multiple times, but when Lila and Cooper became old enough to deal with the damn chickens morning and evening was on his list of greatest joys. 

The master bedroom was empty, and he spent his shower contemplating how the addition of the beehives he was going to built would alter the work rotations. Clint nearly jumped out of his skin when there was knock on the glass of the shower door. “Yeah?” he called.

Laura pulled open the shower door a crack. “You want some company?”

Maybe Nat was onto something about heaven. He didn't think he cared, either.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Natasha, I’m having a heart attack here, this is not the time for jokes.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine Day, uh, I stopped counting. 20 years ago I was probably spending my birthday getting stoned with friends. I would not have predicted that for this year the pot would legal, but the friends wouldn't.

It was a busy summer. Clint knocked together her beehives in a long weekend, then she had to send requests out to local apiarists and pest control places, asking to be contacted if anyone has a swarm. Once the hives were done, he got to work on the room rearranging, with Cooper's help once school got out for summer. Nat spent a lot of time with Lila, working on her ballet. She was a year or two away from going _en pointe_ , and Nat wanted to make sure she had the stamina and open joints to handle when she got there.

The back of the house had a three-season porch. It and its glass were as old as the house. It was freezing in the spring and fall, and in the summer it was either sweltering, or you opened the windows and frolicked with the mosquitoes. Laura used it for plants she was seeding, but mostly it was just storage.

At least, that’s how it had been. When she returned from the dead, she found it had been insulated and modernized, with a barre along the house wall and sprung floor. “The month it took him to get the subfloor level under that is the closest I ever came to divorce,” Laura told her, no more than half joking.

Nate began spending time with them out there, and gamely started learning positions and simple moves.

In the middle of the summer, Wanda and Vision came to visit. She’d spent a long stretch of time at the farm when Nate was a baby, and the kids were excited to see her. Clint drafted her and her magic powers into his renovation project, and by early September Natasha took her first bath in her vintage cast iron tub. 

She invited him to join her, and then he spent the next weekend repairing the water-logged ceiling of Laura’s office beneath.

In the fall, everyone got a last minute invitation to spend Christmas at the Stark's new place in Tahoe. Seeing everyone appealed to Nat and a vacation to keep the kids from going stir crazy appealed to Laura so they agreed. Nat even took over planning when it was obvious that the very pregnant Pepper was overwhelmed.

The trip was fun, and eventful on a number of levels—such as an earthquake, an avalanche, and a rescue mission—but mostly because she and Laura ended up having to out their little triad to everyone.

Pepper thought Tony had wished for the team to be happy, and that was why so many things were different. It certainly explained some things, and was a little more reassuring than the idea she was dead and in heaven. It also felt nice to be out to the others, so if they came to visit they didn't have to hide.

The only downside of the trip was she was a bit tired and easily winded, especially when they spent a day skiing. She chalked it up to altitude sickness and tried to keep hydrated and rest when she needed. When it persisted back in Missouri, she had to face the fact that she was getting out of shape. 

Too much rich food, too much relaxing, not enough working out. She was going to need a larger size of pants soon.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” Clint told her one night in early January. “We’re not Avengers anymore. We don’t need to be in peak physical condition.” Easy thing for him to say, he was as buff as ever thanks to lifting sheep and baling hay and chopping wood. 

"I like being in good shape," she replied, peering at herself in the mirror. There was definitely more of her. And more jiggled. "Maybe I should take over wood chopping duties for a week or two.”

“Honey, there is no good thing I can say in response to this inquiry. Other than I love you and I think you’re gorgeous. If you want an opinion about your waistline, try Laura.”

She laughed and joined him in bed, kissing him. "You're a wise man, Clint Barton.”

He pulled her close. “Also you and her have turned wood chopping into a spectator sport.” 

"True. But there's a couple months left before you start taking your shirt off for it and the premium entertainment begins.”

“If it would make you both happy, I will chop shirtless now.”

"It would definitely make us happy."  
Nat woke up in the morning and decided it was time to get herself back into shape.She went down to her porch-turned-ballet-studio before the rest of the family had gotten moving, toe shoes in hand. After about ten minutes of stretching and warm up, she paused to lace up her shoes and choose her music. She went with A Sleeping Beauty, since it would really make her sweat. Going up on point, she slipped into one of her solos.

It was, possibly, the worst dancing she'd done in years. She seemed to wobble on her toes, even on the simplest moves. Getting into jumps was fine, but she almost missed a few landings, actually ending up on her ass at one point. Frustrated, she pulled off her shoes, turned off the music and went back into the house.

Laura was starting breakfast and balked at her expression. "What happened?"

Nat put a hand on her hip. "Be honest, have I gained weight?"She smiled ruefully. “I think we all have. Maybe it’s a sign of lowered stress levels.”"It's effecting my center of balance," Nat said, aware she sounded like Nate when he was teetering on the edge of an overtired tantrum. "That's never happened before."

“If you want, I can make more healthy food. But I’m making you responsible for getting Clint to eat it.”

She sighed, leaning past her to steal a piece of bacon. "He told me I shouldn't worry about it. I'm not an Avenger anymore and don't need to be in peak shape. It's just. . . weird. To have your body feel different."

“I can very much empathize with that.”

Nat supposed after three pregnancies, Laura didn't recognize the body in the mirror fairly often. "I did convince him to chop wood shirtless.”

Laura turned. “In January?”

"That's what he said. Though now that you point it out he might have just been humoring me.”

“I’ll see that he follows through,” she said sternly, and Nat laughed.

That night after the kids were in bed, Laura brought tea into the living room where Nat was reading. “I’ve been thinking about it today,” she said. “Did you fall this morning?”

"Yeah." She actually had a little bruise on her hip from it. "I was having trouble landing my jumps.”

“I’m worried that’s not your center of gravity, but your balance.”

Nat frowned, considering. "Maybe. I haven't had any other issues, though. With walking or bumping into things.”

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Clint told me when you died, you. . .you split your head open.” She reached out to touch the back of Nat’s head. “Are you sure everything healed right?”

"Nothing hurt," she said, letting her poke around. "Amanda offered to scan me when I came back but I felt fine and just wanted to get to seeing people." She paused. Laura was now rubbing her head and it felt nice. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to fly out to California and let her do it now.”

“I can come with,” Laura said, and Nat knew now that the Mom Worry was engaged, she was getting her head scanned one way or the other. “It’s good for Clint to be left alone with them all once in a while.”

Nat thought Clint might disagree with that, but this whole poly thing worked because sometimes one kept thoughts to oneself. "I'll give her a call in the morning and see if someone can give us a lift."

Amanda was always happy for opportunities to scan people who had been through something unusual, and Sam flew a jet out to pick them up. Nate freaked out at the idea of both Moms leaving, and they decided to take him with them.

He sat up in the co-pilot's seat and Sam let him push some of the buttons. Clearly, Clint was going to have to step up his pilot's training on him.

Amanda and some of the others met them at the landing pad. The doctor had announced she was pregnant at Christmas, though it was probably still too early to tell, especially in her comfy sweater and lab coat. Nat did think she looked sort of healthy and glowing.

They said their hellos and Amanda pointed to a little golf cart behind her. "I can drive you over to my office if you want to get to it.”

“Can I drive the tractor?” Nate piped up.

"Sure," Amanda said as they walked to the cart. Laura gave her a panicked look and she waved reassuringly. "FRIDAY controls it," she told them in a whisper.

Amanda’s lab contained a full body scanner. It looked like a very fancy phone booth or shower stall. She explained how it would produce a 3D hologram of Nat’s body and all its systems. Amanda showed a couple of examples of the images it could generate. The looked like models from anatomy text books—maps of nerves, circulatory systems, skeletons.

"Since your symptoms could be from a variety of issues, and because we didn't get any data on you post resurrection, I'm going to run the full gamut of tests. You won't feel anything, but it'll take about 3-5 minutes to do the complete scan."

Nat nodded. "I can stand still that long.”

“Nate will probably get antsy,” Laura said. “You mind if I take him out to run around?”

She shook her head. "Go on, FRIDAY can yell for you if I need you.”

They both hugged her, and then went out. Amanda looked at her and said, “If you’re wearing any jewelry or metal, take it it off.”

She'd put on her necklace and ring for good luck, but took them off and handed them to Amanda before stepping into the weird little booth. It made a humming noise, bathing her in lights. Amanda was watching the screen as the scan proceeded, and she was frowning.

"That's not a great expression for my doctor to be making," she pointed out.

Amanda looked up at her. “Didn’t you say at Christmas you had a hysterectomy?”

"Yes. The Red Room sterilized us before we went out on our first assignment. Can't have periods or pregnancy get in the way of a job.”

“Are you sure they didn’t just tie your tubes?”

Nat looked at her through the window in the booth. "Yes. One hundred percent sure.”

Amanda tapped some buttons, and the lights turned off. The door opened, and she said, “Come here.”

She had no idea what was wrong, but Amanda was acting weird enough to make worry knot in her stomach. Nat carefully stepped out of the booth. "Should I get Laura back in here?”

Amanda held up a finger, tapped her screen again, and then blue holographic projection appeared. It was a body, she assumed hers, though it only went as high as the waist. She could see translucent outline of bones and muscles and organs. There was a white shape in the middle that for a second seemed obviously a tumor, then she realized it was a tiny skull.

“It’s just that you seem to _have_ a uterus, and there is a second trimester fetus in it.” She paused, then added. “There’s a chair behind you if you need to sit.”

She sat down, hard. "That's not possible," she whispered. "It's not. I donated eggs so they could have Nate. I had ultrasounds, exams. There was ovaries but no uterus.”

Amanda pulled up another chair and sat next to her. “Space Magic? You did come back from the dead.”

That did seem to be the answer to most things in their life, lately. "I didn't- You said second trimester, I didn't take the vitamins or get check up or any of the stuff-“

Amanda put her hand on Nat’s arm. “She looks perfectly healthy. You are young and healthy, and I’m betting you eat a pretty nutrient rich diet. She’ll be fine.”

Nat nodded, trying to remember to breathe. Then she jumped a little. “She?"

“Yes. It’s a girl.”

She covered her mouth with her hands, tears welling up. "FRIDAY. You need to get Laura back her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” FRIDAY replied.

A moment later the door opened, and Laura came in with Nate on her hip. She took one look at the tears, and whispered, “Oh, God,” and then a louder, “Let me just put Nate. . .somewhere.”

"I can take him," Amanda said, standing. "They're happy tears, by the way." She pointed to the screen. "Say hello to your new. . . daughter? Niece?”

“Wait, what?” She gave Nate to Amanda and sat in the chair she’d vacated. “Is that. . .?”

Nat nodded, trying to catch her breath. "I'm pregnant.”

“Hey, hey, hey, come here,” Laura said gently, reaching out and pulling her into a hug. She seemed to understand they were not just happy tears, but tears covering half the range of human emotions.

She wrapped her arms over Laura's and leaned into her, letting Laura rock her while she cried it out. In her world of ever more impossible things, she had really thought this one thing was out of her reach. But here it was. A daughter. Hers and Clint's daughter. Wiggling on the screen in front of her.

“Is it abdominal? Or did she she resurrect with a uterus?” Laura asked, clearly of Amanda.

“I couldn’t say specifically how or when it got there, but she has a normal, healthy uterus. Baby looks good.”

Nate must have gotten down because suddenly he was trying to climb in her lap. “Mamushka, don’t cry.”

Nat hugged him, kissing his cheek. "Look," she said, pointing to the screen. "That's your baby sister."

"She's measuring a little over twenty two weeks," Amanda said. "Due date would be somewhere in late May or early June.”

Laura turned to look at her fully. “Did you say twenty-two?”

"Yep. She's a month or so ahead of me.”

“You look pregnant, I could see it when you picked up Nate. She. . . doesn’t. Twenty-two weeks I was out to here.” She held her hand out. “And getting kicked in the spleen.” She looked at Nat. “Can you feel her?”

"There's been weird fluttery feelings," she said, resting her chin on Nate's head. "I thought it was gas."

"At the risk of insulting both of us," Amanda said. "Natasha's abs are on a different planet from most women's. She slender and in peak physical shape. It takes a long time for a woman like that to show. You said you're losing your balance when you dance? I imagine you've finally reached a point where your center of gravity changed and your joints opened up. You should keep exercising, but I'd lay off the dancing till after the birth, your tendons and ligaments are going to be loosening and it increases your injury rate.”

“My waistline has definitely been expanding, it’s just not obviously bump shaped. And my hips and butt. I just assumed it too many cookies.”

“Admittedly,” Laura said, “If it had been baby shaped we would have thought it was a tumor or something.”

"Also true," she agreed.

"You may never show as much as we picture pregnant women to show. But you'll probably pop out a bit more soon. And, because you haven't had to think about this previously, once you've given birth we should have a discussion about contraception.”

“Lila is going to be beside herself,” Laura said.

"She's been wanting a sister since before Nate was born." Nat looked at her. "Should we call Clint or tell him in person?”

Laura laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe a video call? I, at least, will not be able to hold it in when we call this evening to say goodnight, and I don’t want to get back on a plane immediately. But also I really want to see his face.”

"Video call is probably good. Though I feel bad we're not there for hugs.”

“How about you guys go get settled it,” Amanda said. “Call Clint, have some dinner, and then tomorrow we can do a full workup and figure out what you need going forward.” She looked at Laura. “You have an OB back home?”

“Sort of? I have a gyno, but he and the hospital are an hour’s drive. Cooper and Lila were born at home with a midwife. I had Nate in a hospital in New York, I spent the last month of my pregnancy staying at the Tower specifically for that.”

Amanda's lips pursed and Nat imagined she was summoning all the social politeness she possessed before she looked at her and said carefully, "Do you want to birth at home wi-"

"No," Nat said firmly.

"Right. Well, there's a very nice hospital in the Bay Area that I have admitting privileges to, that I plan to birth at. You could come out early and camp out. There's enough time to build something on campus, or Tony has a guest house.”

“We’re staying in that guest house,” Laura said. “I was told that’s where everybody stays.”

"Tony's an excellent host.”

“Why don’t we go get some food,” Laura said to Nat. “Got any weird cravings?”

She laughed a little. "Sushi, but I seem to recall that's not allowed.”

“There are plenty with cooked ingredients,” Amanda said. “Pepper will know. Should I have FRIDAY call a car?”

"Yes, please," Nat said. "Maybe see if Pepper can join us?”

“She’ll certainly have advice about carrying a Space Magic baby,” Amanda replied.

"Thank you," Nat said, putting Nate down so she could stand and hug her.

Amanda started in surprise, but gave her a little squeeze. “Congratulations."

They were in the car, heading out to the Starks’ house, when Laura said, “You know, Clint brought up the idea of another baby not long ago.”

"That man missed his calling as a Mormon." Nat looked over at her. "Did you laugh him out of the room?”

“He thought it would be nice if we had one kid we all had the same set of memories about. Which I found a very sweet sentiment. But I know this version of you had very weird feelings about how it went with Nate, so I didn’t think it was a good idea, at least for the moment.”

"I'd actually been thinking along the same lines," Nat admitted. "But felt. . . weird asking you to carry another one.”

“Your part of that wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. But I probably could have handled one more.” She grinned. “Now I don’t have to.”

"Clearly not." She was still processing the whole thing, but was starting to wrap her head around it. "I could have more.”

“And you were mocking Clint about the mormon thing.”

"It's why we work so well together.”

“Well. It would give him something to build. We’re out of bedrooms.”

Nat grinned. "That might be a gift as good as the kid.”

The car took them through gates and up a long drive. The house was sprawling but tucked in among huge heritage trees and a lot of deliberately wild-looking landscaping. Nat could appreciate how people in this area did mansions. It was surprisingly restrained, though the house itself was probably huge.

Pepper greeted them at the door, much to Nat’s surprise. “I’m still on maternity leave,” she said by way of explanation. There was a ball pit, of all things, in the living room, and Nate made a beeline for it.

"I see Morgan is in no way spoiled," Laura commented.

“I pick my battles,” Pepper replied.

"We should do this before we sit," Nat said. "I'm pregnant.”

Pepper stared at her a moment, then said, “Well, this is probably the only time my husband being responsible for someone else’s pregnancy isn’t a cause for divorce.” She paused. “Are we happy about this? You’ve got your spy face on.” She made a gesture encompassing her own face as she said that.

"I'm still processing, hence the face. Up until an hour ago I thought I didn't have a uterus. But we are happy, yes. I love being mamushka.”

“Then, congratulations.” She hugged both of them. “FRIDAY will watch Nate, if you want me to show you where the guest house it.”

"That would be great. We could use a rest. Busy morning.”

The guest house was in the back, past the pool. Which was, Nat noticed, steaming. “I put the heater on in case someone wanted to swim,” Pepper said. “FRIDAY will open the pool gate automatically for adults and never for children, no matter what they tell her and/or try to pick the lock with.” She said that like it was a common problem. Given what Nat knew about Morgan’s father, it probably was.

Laura looked at the gate thoughtfully, then at Nat. "You think we could talk Clint into having FRIDAY in our house?"

She shrugged. "Worth a shot.”

“Tony has wired her into more than one vintage house. At our vineyard he had tiny bots crawl behind the lathe running lines so we wouldn’t have to disturb the plaster.”

"That would almost certainly raise our chances of convincing him.”

The guest house had two bedrooms. It wasn’t enough space for the whole family to stay while she came out to have the baby, but there were likely enough rooms in the big house for them to stay there. They’d figure it out.

Pepper offered to watch Nate while they called Clint.

"He's going to think it's bad," Nat said as they got settled to call. "We gotta rip the bandaid fast or he'll work himself up in his head."

Laura sighed. “Yeah, he’s already worried.”

FRIDAY put the call through and Clint answered almost immediately, tension clear on his face. "Did Doc find something?"

Nat nodded and, in the interest of ripping that bandaid off, just blurted out, "I'm pregnant.”

He made a face. “Natasha, I’m having a heart attack here, this is not the time for jokes.”

“It’s not a joke,” Laura said. “She came back from the dead with a working reproductive system, unbeknownst to any of us, and is now 22 weeks pregnant.”

He looked from one to the other. “How did _that_ happen?”

“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much-” Laura started.

“Don’t be a wiseass,” he replied, but he chuckled, and his shoulders relaxed.

"Everyone seems to be blaming it on space magic," Nat offered. "Even Amanda, and I feel like that's painful for her. Either Tony's all-encompassing happiness wish did it, or the soul stone did it when it sent me back.”

“I just mean. . . you didn’t get a period or anything. I feel like we would have noticed.”

Since they were apparently having this conversation. . . "I spotted a couple times in the summer, but I did that before, once in a while.”

Clint opened his mouth, and then she could see him decide he didn’t want additional detail. Instead he said, “You know, I did want a 4th kid. Somebody told me no.”

"I told you we should wait and see," Laura said. "That's not no.”

He grinned and shook his head. “Well, now it’s entirely a yes.”

"I'm due at just about the worst time," Nat said.

“We’ll figure it out,” he replied. “When are you coming home?”

She glanced over at Laura. "Tomorrow? Neither of us want to fly today, and I'd like to see Vision and Wanda.”

“Tomorrow,” she confirmed. “Don’t tell the kids until we get home.”

"I promise, but it will take all my considerable spy skills."

"I have faith in you," Nat told him solemnly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I always feel awkward," she admitted. "Trying to explain. It all sounds so depressing - and it was - but it was our lives and we lived them.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine day. . .55, I think. I've spent a small fortune on etsy on masks, and we're planning a full camping trip in our backyard.

Lila was utterly overjoyed about having a little sister. There was quite a bit of shrieking, and then they had to order online—literally right then—a pink onesie with a tutu and pair of socks that looked like ballet slippers in newborn size.

Cooper, completely and entirely a teenager, regarded them all and said, “Well that answers a question I. . .didn’t want an answer to.”

"Sorry," Nat told him. "We'd have kept it a secret if we could, but we really thought this was impossible.”

He shrugged. “It was barely plausible deniability as it was.”

"Your dad does tend to smooch me in the middle of the living room.”

“Am I going to have to change diapers?”

"Probably," Laura said. "But we'll try to keep it to a minimum.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not doing poop.”

Clint turned and looked at him. “But you clean the chicken coop without complaint.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

Laura propped a hand on her hip. "No poop but you do one load of laundry a week.”

“I will do two loads if none of them include the poopy diapers.”

“I’m going to go upstairs and figure out how much money to put aside for law school,” Clint muttered.

"I'm going to go tell Steve the news," Nat said. "Let me know if the negotiating gets violent.”

She’d told Sam and Wanda when she was out in California, but asked them not to say anything until she could tell Steve herself. 

Steve, as she expected, was absolutely delighted. And asked zero questions about logistics or the status of her uterus. It occurred to her he probably didn’t know anything was off, as the specifics of her reproductive system was not something they’d ever discussed.

It was nice to have someone completely and objectively happy for her. Her head was still mess about the whole thing so a little uncomplicated joy was a relief. Talking to him, she could be happy about her baby and not sad about her past or a little violated by the whole came-back-different thing.

Later, at bed time, Clint caught her checking out her belly in the mirror again, this time in a totally different context. "Amanda said I should 'pop' soon.”

“Of course she’s disguised and hiding,” he commented. “She’s ours. That kid is 100% spy.”

It was said with such affection it caused a strange blend of bittersweet. She really hoped she got settled with this by the time she was born. "When do we start talking about names?”

“If I recall, we started calling Nate ‘Little Natasha’ when they gave us the embryo pictures.”

She chuckled. "Any thoughts for this one?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I think it should be something Russian.”

She rubbed a hand over her stomach and felt the little flutter that Amanda and Laura both assured her was her daughter moving around. "I'll give it some thought.”

“You doing okay, Nat?”

"I don't know," she admitted. Abandoning the mirror, she went to sit on the edge of her bed. "This is all so. . . weird. This impossible thing happened. And I'm happy. But I'm also scared and overwhelmed and sad, in a way I can't really explain." She shook her head. "I thought I'd wrapped my head around the whole coming back to life. In the grand scheme of things, it's not the weirdest one we've dealt with. But now I know I came back. . . different somehow. And that's a mind fuck. Plus it's coming just in time for my body to completely change and feel foreign in pregnancy.”

“Having a baby is terrifying enough even without all that other stuff,” he said. “Particularly as you’re not getting the full run of time to prepare.”

"I am a little sad I missed out on the first third of the experience," she admitted.

“According to Laura, there’s a lot of vomiting.”

"That was Pepper's experience as well.”

He sat up and moved closer to her. “It’s okay to be sad about missing the vomiting. I won’t judge you.”

She leaned on his shoulder. "I mean, I had a first trimester, clearly there was just no vomiting. I just didn't know to appreciate it.”

“I think the best part is probably after, though.”

"Probably." He tucked and arm around her, rubbing her shoulder and back. Nat closed her eyes and relaxed into the touch. "Maybe it'll feel more real when I really start to show.”

“And when you’ve had time to get used to it.”

It had only been a couple days. "Worst case, I'm sure I'll believe it when they hand me the baby.”

By the time winter gave way to spring, the baby had outgrown the confines of Nat’s torso and was growing pretty much straight outwards. By the middle of March she looked like she had a basketball under her shirt.

A very active basketball.

"It looks like that alien movie Mom won't let me watch," Lila said, staring at Nat's stomach from the back of the couch.

"Well, don't lean over too far," Nat said, gluing loops of pastel paper together for Nate's class Easter decorations. It was the only chore she could currently do from the couch with her swollen feet propped up. "In case she's a face hugger.”

Lila reached to pat her belly. “Be good, baby.”

It jumped under her touch, making both of them giggle.

It still didn't feel entirely real, not even when she packed her bags and flew out to California in late April to stay at the Starks until the birth. The rest of the family would stay at the farm until she went into labor or the kids were out of school whichever came first. With a jet gassed and ready in the yard, they could be in California in an hour or so.

Doc didn’t think she had any reason to worry, but she worried just the same, about the baby coming early and fast, and her being alone. She didn’t say anything to Clint and Laura, because she didn’t want to worry them or disrupt their lives. She loved a lot of them who lived out in California—particularly Sam and Wanda—but they didn’t have the same memories, so it wasn’t the same. The five years after the snap had made them different people. They didn’t really understand what she’d lost, and her complicated emotions about what she’d gotten back. They’d been better friends with a different version of her.

“I know how you feel,” Steve told her when she called him, because she knew he’d understand. “Sharon and I had to start over in some ways. It takes work.”

"I always feel awkward," she admitted. "Trying to explain. It all sounds so depressing - and it was - but it was our lives and we lived them.”

He was quiet a long moment. “You know, I keep saying I want to come visit you.”

She smiled. "You want to come out to California and wait for labor with me?”

“I’m retired, I got time on my hands.”

"You okay with staying in the Stark's guest house?”

He chuckled. “Hey, that guest house is nice.”

"It is. I've been floating in the pool the last couple days. It's nice.”

“Good,” he said, Cap Mode in his voice. “I’ll talk to Sharon.”

They arrived two days later, to much hugging and exclaiming over the size of her belly. Sharon joined her in the pool to float and they discussed wedding planning and baby clothes. It still didn’t feel real.

She waited, and waited some more. Her due date came and went, and by this point it was laughable she’d once been late to show. At six days overdue, Amanda had a conversation with her OB and they offered an induction. Nat found the idea of not having a panicked scramble soothing, and called back home to Missouri to tell them to get on the plane but not break any laws in their rush.

Lada Sasha Barton was born at 2:42 pm after an induction and six hours of labor, with a headful of red curls and a set of very powerful lungs. Both Clint and Laura were in the room with Nat when she was put on her chest, bloody and squalling. It was then, and only then, that everything felt real. She cuddled her daughter to her and cried happy tears.

Nat and Lada spent the night in the hospital. Laura sent the Clint home with the kids and slept on the weird fold-out chair. Thanks to some off-label medication Amanda had provided and some very persistent time with a pump, she’d gotten her milk supply going again. Something that allowed Nat to get a good night’s sleep without having to wrestle a sanctimonious nurse for a bottle of formula.

“You have a second pair of boobs,” Pepper told her when they came home. “I have never been so envious of you in my life.”

"They're emergency back up boobs," Nat said. "But they are very handy." She was rocking in what was quickly becoming her favorite chair in the house, a big armchair with gliders. Lada was a good little eater, making up for Nat's awkward uncertainty. "Laura's happy. She liked nursing.”

“I almost ran myself into the ground, trying not to give bottles. Tony convinced me to pump and let him take a shift or two. Sleep is good for sanity.”

"Laura has said the difference having three parents dealing with Nate was life changing.”

“I can only imagine.” Pepper stood up. “Can I get you anything while I’m up?”

One the one hand, now both Tony Stark and Steve Rogers saw her boobs every day. On the other hand, as long as they were out in California she had _six_ people helping her out. It was nice.

She had no idea who she'd been or what her family had been like before she'd gone to the Red Room. All she had as memories were the old Russian lullaby she sang to the kids and the smell of borscht and baking dough. But she was sure, no matter what that life had been, she hadn't been nearly as surrounded by love as her daughter was in her first days.

On her turn on the night shift, she ended up carrying Lada down to the living room to nurse her in the glider, only to find Tony down there, Junior on his shoulder, bouncing him. "Colic?" she asked, getting settled.

"Or possessed by demons.”

“And here I thought he was the perfect baby.”

Tony chuckled. “Only before midnight.” He paused. “You’re not old enough to have seen Gremlins, are you?”

"We watched an assortment of pop culture relevant movies when I was in the Red Room." She tucked Lada against her breast and started rocking. "I named one of the barn cats Gizmo.”

Tony carried Junior into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a bottle. It was perfectly round and honestly looked a lot like a fake boob. He made all manner of strange things for his children. “You know,” he said as he carefully sat on the couch, “I think about this time last year you were waltzing into my hospital room like the world’s prettiest zombie.”

"With the best opening line in history," she added, smiling. "Amanda thought I was going to give you a heart attack.”

She watched his prosthetic hand change shape into something that could better cradle the baby. “You reappearing did nothing for my vague sense that this was all something my brain cooked up while I was dying.”

Nat laughed a little, rubbing Lada's soft little fist. "Sometimes, I'm still not sure. Maybe I'm dead and this is some weird version of heaven.”

Tony was silent a long moment, two babies slurping away the only sounds. “Maybe it is. Maybe we’re both dead.”

It was a dark thought, but one she'd had now and then. She looked down at Lada, suckling away happily. Gently, she tucked a little red curl back behind her perfect seashell ear. "Does it matter?”

“No,” he replied, with absolute certainty. “Not in the least.”

Leaning back in her chair, she sighed and smiled. "Couldn't agree more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would probably be the perfect end to this series. . . but we still have more stories. None for this series are anywhere near posting yet , but I'm sure we'll get them up eventually. Thanks to everybody for reading and commenting!


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